Emerged From Sorrow
by yitaply
Summary: Abused, Harry is saved from Privet Drive to be placed in the magical world. Lupin,coaxed by Dumbledore, must confront his own demons in order to help Harry. Weasleys help. No bashings. rated M for language/later chap. AU plot, Canon pairin
1. Prologue to Edge of Darkness

**A/N: Hey, this is a revised prologue. The first was written when I had no real experience in writing ans so I hope to go though the rest of the chapters as well and fix them up a bit. This one fits with th plot that I didn't have together at first. Which is good, no? :)  
**

Disclaimer: not mine, Jk's, no infringement intended.

**Prologue of Emerged From Sorrow: **

"Nothing to fear," James Potter soothed his son softly. The house was being pummeled by rain, the sky roaring with a furious storm. He ran his hands tenderly over his son's messy locks, the baby's large green eyes curious and the twitch at the corners of his mouth indicated that he was almost finding the sound of lightning amusing.

"That's my brave little champion." James grinned.

"Da-da," Harry said excitedly as the house trembled, his little finger pointing out the window.

"I see it, Harry. Look, rain makes Mama go night night."

Giggling, Harry played with the locket hanging from his mother's neck, his back resting against his dada's chest.

Sadness fell into his eyes as he watched his child, knowing that war was raging outside the magically guarded walls of his safe house in Godric's Hollow. For these brief and cozy instances, he could imagine the world safe for his son; however, Harry was in the worst danger imaginable. Voldemort had sentenced him to death for a prophecy he hadn't even heard to its entirety. James had no idea how long his family could be allowed a harbor from the danger erupting in the world due to Voldemort. He worried endlessly that what he was doing to keep his baby boy safe wouldn't be enough, that staying out of the fight was the right thing to do, and that all he had to do was not think about those dying in his place.

More than a year ago, he had been told by Albus Dumbledore that danger would pursue his son before he was even born. Lily had been eight months pregnant at the time. They had been twenty at the time, scared enough about being new parents, and then being told about the burden their child would carry one day if he survived.

His delicate mask of control that had once commanded the attention, strength, and affections of his fellow Aurors had crumbled as he wept in the Headmaster's office with his broken wife. It had pained him to cry for the distraught Lily and for his infant son who might never even reach his second birthday. Lily had been consumed with terror, anger, and sadness that had made her tremble until she had been forced to drink dreamless sleep potion and a substantial amount of calming draught.

That day, sacrifices had been made, and for his son, he had left the comfort of Potter Manor to live away from all he had ever known. James and Lily had only dared to venture out of their new domain a few times a month. Occasionally, the Marauders, his best friends from school, would visit them, but they usually brought grave news about endless deaths that only made James feel worse about having a safe haven from the terror that was Voldemort's rein.

Suddenly, as if to awaken him from his wandering thoughts, the most dreaded sound he hoped never to hear sounded. James and Lily sprung to their feet at once. The magical wards surrounding their home were being countered one by one; the alarms had all been triggered. Their worst fear had come true.

Voldemort himself was making his way to the house at the very moment.

Fear lingered for only a second before his adrenaline pushed it away. There was no time for weakness. They both closed their eyes and kept a firm protective hand over their confused little boy and waited for the feeling of being squeezed out of a too small tube to overcome them, but they seemed to be unable to Apparate.

Lily led out and exasperated cry. "What's happened James?!" Her eyes were wide with panic and here face had pale, allowing her flowing dark auburn hair to stand out vividly.

"I don't know Lils; we should be able to Apparate until the last ward has been removed. Hold Harry! Let me try something," said James, his features set in determination. He successfully Apparated by himself to just outside his home, and he returned as soon as he had come. He glanced at his wife and saw that last bit of hope leave her eyes as a single tear trekked her cheek. It crushed him to see it.

They were going to die.

Peter Pettigrew, who had been made their Secret Keeper for the Fidelus Charm, had betrayed them. And worst, their last chance had been stolen by him two days ago, when Peter had visited their home looking his usual nervous self (they had attributed his strange behavior to the pressures of the war) and they had allowed him to feed Harry his bottle. Harry had apparently been given an anti-Apparation potion by Peter. James and Lily could leave but Harry would be left behind.

The only option had been swiped from the table without their knowledge. Trembling, James took a deep breath and drew his wife to his chest. "I love you," he whispered, "I have always loved you." He kissed her, tenderly, her response desperate. Caressing her cheek, he told her in a voice rough with emotion, "Gods, you're beautiful. I must be the luckiest man on earth."

Lily laughed, "Did Sirius give you that corny line, Potter." She buried her face in his neck. They had spoken those words on their honeymoon.

"Shut up, put down the bloody books, and get to bed." James whispered back, his voice cracking with anguish at the memory.

Looking up, Lily's emerald eyes met his and she sent him a trembling smile before a sob escaped her, her fingers entwining within his tightly. She breathed out, "I love you so much, James" into his chest as her hands supported their son between them.

As the house trembled announcing that the last ward had been destroyed, James looked down at his son, and his eyes brimmed with tears as he realized that his next words would be his last. That he would never speak to his little boy again. Holding down a sob, his wife grasped his hand so tightly that it allowed him to steel himself. "Harry James Potter I have never loved another person as much as I love you," he choked as Harry looked up at him and placed a tiny hand over his cheek, a grin spreading over his face.

Having to bring himself to finish, he grabbed his son's tiny hand and held it within his own, bringing it to his lips for a kiss as Harry smiled. "Remember that I love you; don't ever forget that, not when they tell you why we aren't there with you. No matter what happens, know I'd always be proud of you, my son." he closed his eyes and his last words came out so softly it was almost a whisper, "Stay strong, sport."

With a painful step back, Lily grabbed their son and ran for Harry's nursery just as the front door was blasted off its hinges by the evil hand of Lord Voldemort.

As an accomplished Auror, James knew he could only last minutes against the ill-gained Dark magic of one of the strongest wizards in the world. "Why don't you and your wife spare yourselves James and leave? There is no reason for both of you to die today," hissed Voldemort in a cold, inhuman voice.

"I would rather die in a battle defending my family than live a coward's life of a man who couldn't even protect the son he loved," answered James fiercely.

Cruel laughter filled the room. "James Potter, you are a fool!" He lifted his wand. "So be it your end." The evil wizard sneered unnaturally before hurling a set of complicated and lethal spells in James' direction. James managed to deflect most of them, but a powerful Cutting Curse tore at his right shoulder and splattered blood on the wall behind him.

James groaned in agony, his jaw tensing, and his face growing white as his wound bled freely. With determination, the Auror shot a myriad of spells in rapid succession: Stunners, a Severing Charm, and the strongest hexes he could think of.

Voldemort managed to put up a shield for most of the stunners, but the other spells were so strong they shattered it and he had to step to the side hurriedly as the Severing Charm flew slightly past him.

"Reducto!" James cast on the vases behind his nemesis, the shards of glass getting deflected away and reappearing on James' wand hand. Holding back a scream, James fought to keep his aim steady, his hand aching with pain. In a last ditch effort, the ground around James grew hot and he brought his injured arm forth, gritting his teeth and fueling the area with all his power. Instantly, his arm flamed with magical energy and he swung back and tossed a massive fireball at the inhuman monster.

Voldemort, not having expected the attack was grazed as his late shield refused to expand at a faster rate. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air and James' eyes glowed with bravery.

Growing angry, Voldemort attacked James with the Cruciatus Curse. The proud former Gryffindor fell to the floor and convulsed in excruciating pain as he felt every muscle in his body tear and his insides squeezed. After several minutes, Voldemort removed the spell, and before James could recover his breath, Voldemort sent a strong Cutting Curse that instantly covered the man in his own blood. The prone man gagged, blood pouring onto the floor, and his eyes glassy.

Even through this, James raised his shaking wand and yelled "EXPELLIARMUS!" with the only strength he had left. Voldemort was thrown against the wall, and his wand flew away from him.

In horror, James watched as Voldemort used wandless magic to fly his own wand back into his hand. With a red fury in his eyes, Voldemort yelled "AVADA KEDAVRA!" tragically ending James Potter's short life.

Lily had heard Voldemort enter as she made her way up the stairs to Harry's nursery. Ready to defend him with her last breath, she ran in and put Harry in the crib. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort took her husband's life and made his way to her. She held her wand in the direction of the door and watched Harry play with the toy Snitch that was charmed to fly around his crib. He laughed and grabbed at it, unaware of the events folding out before his very own innocent eyes.

With trembling hands, she ruffled her son's messy hair, and observed his handsome features. The baby looked so much like James. No, she wouldn't think about her lover. She had to be strong.

Her mind ran wild with all the things they would never get to do with their little boy again. Life was so cruel at times. Softly she began to sing the lullaby she and James sung to Harry when he was having trouble sleeping; the old Scottish folk song always calmed and relaxed Harry.

_**"Hush, hush, time to be sleeping Oh, hush, hush, your dreams come a-creeping ," **_

_You know you're terribly off key," James had commented, wrapping his arms around her waist._

"_**Your dreams of peace and of freedom," **_

"_He loves it all the same; at least someone appreciates my valiant efforts," She had responded, smirking._

"_**So smile in your sleep, lovely baby."**_

"_I appreciate many of your 'efforts', Lils…Just not this one."_

_She had swatted him in the arm. "You sing then," she had said as she placed their son in his arms._

"_**Now's the time to be dreaming, let our love keep you from peeking."**_

"_You terrible voice made him fall asleep already." James had laughed, tenderly kissing his sleeping son's temple and placing him in the crib. Swiftly, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, taking her breath away__**. **_

"_**Hush, hush, time to be sleeping."**_

Harry stopped his pursuit of the toy snitch and gazed at his mother with a smile on his face as she sung his favorite lullaby, his little face frowning slightly at the tears on her cheeks.

"Harry, I love you sweetheart," she said to the baby as she heard the approaching footsteps. The door was immediately pulled outwards from its frame and Lily readied herself in a protective stance over her son.

Voldemort approached; sore at the force he had struck the wall and his now burned leg. He was amazed at how James had even managed to strike him.

"MOVE!" he commanded savagely. Lily stood her ground and managed to block the Cruciatus Curse Voldemort had aimed at her. She wasn't fast enough for the disarming spell that threw her against the crib and her wand out of reach. Voldemort's patience was wearing thin and he took aim at Harry, ready to end the infant's life in an instant, and just as he sent the spell, Lily got up and leaped into its way, screaming for her son.

"HARRY!" she screamed as the green flash of light hurdled towards her son and into her instead. As Lily's limb body fell to the floor, Harry let out a startled cry, scared for the commotion around him and the scary being slowly approaching.

With a masterful precision, Voldemort stretched his wand out, aimed at the child's head, and now furious at the resistance he had met, screamed "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Blinding light encompassed the entire house. Harry was thrown back against his crib, bleeding from a spot on his head. Voldemort screamed as he felt agony reap through his body. And a few seconds later, his body had disintegrated into a dust, his life essence extinguished like a flame.

The house lay in ruins, the roof had collapsed, and the walls had crumbled at the force of the magic it had just endured. Lightning ripped through the night, marking the day, and as the rain began to fall upon the remaining heaps of wood, it drenched the only living person in the house.

Crying uncontrollably, Harry Potter cried out for the soothing of the parents who had given up their lives for him, not knowing he had been left alone. He had become the last Potter and the new hope of the entire magical world in less than half an hour. Rain fell heavily onto the infant and washed the blood off his aching and fresh lightning-bolt shaped wound.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 31st, 1981, Headmaster's office

"Albus, I fear we are using our resources inefficiently; the Order of the Phoenix members as of now are unsubstantial. I was never one to question your methods, as I hold you in the highest respect; however, we are losing this war ..." Minerva McGonagall was frustrated for good reason: they were losing, and if this was in fact true, it would mean the end of all that was good.

Remus Lupin nodded his head in agreement. "Our members are being killed one by one and we have reason to believe there is a traitor in our midst."

Albus Dumbledore listened at his desk as the two fired off questions he could not answer. War did indeed entail misery, death, sorrow, and difficult unanswerable questions. He kept an impassive expression, no less worried than they were about the current war situation.

"Minerva, Remus, I only ask that you ..."

Dumbledore stopped mid-speech; he had just noticed that the quill on his desk was glowing a bright red, indicating the Potter's safe house's protective wards had been removed. A look of panic had befallen his gentle features. He had no idea how long the pen had been in its current state--it could have been hours for all he knew. Dumbledore stood up abruptly, startling the other occupants of the room.

"What is wrong, Albus?" McGonagall was bewildered at the actions of the Headmaster; he had been headmaster since 1956 and she had never seen such an expression cross his face, even since Lord Voldemort had started his reign of fear in 1966.

Dumbledore briskly strode across his office, picked up a sculpture of a centaur said, "Portus!" He looked at Remus and Minerva as if he had never noticed them. "Both of you take a hold of this Portkey. I will explain when we arrive. Stay on your toes and be cautious, we might be walking into grave danger. Quickly!"

They both complied and felt the familiar pull at their navels before they landed on a small village street. A sign on their left read 'Godric's Hollow'.

Lupin's eyes widened in horror when he realized where they were. Something must have happened to Lily and James. With that thought, he sprinted towards the safe house, following right behind the Headmaster, who was running unusually fast for his old age. McGonagall was right behind them, oblivious to where they were and wondering what dangers would lie ahead. She came to a stop as she saw the other two were looking straight ahead with sorrowful expressions.

Lupin and Dumbledore stopped and looked at the house that lay in ruins before them. They didn't even seem to realize the rain drizzling upon them as they looked at the horrendous sight ahead. Remus closed his eyes as if to will the sight a figment of his imagination.

Dumbledore ran into the house, followed by the others. He started to frantically move boards of rubble out of the way with his wand, levitating the rubble away with Remus and hoping to find any member of the Potter family. Dumbledore adopted a determined and sad expression, while Remus was struggling to hold his composure, trying desperately not to break down.

Off to the side, McGonagall observed the crumbling house. Most of the walls had collapsed and the roof was absent. The staircase stood, missing its railing and several boards, the second floor of the house was miraculously still there, although there were giant holes on the floor displaying views of the rainy night. "Who lived here, Albus?" she asked, horrified when she heard a loud sob coming from Remus. She looked behind her and automatically rushed to his side.

"Oh, dear Merlin!" Remus had just overturned a large beam and what he saw would haunt him for the rest of his life. His best friend James Potter lay before him covered in blood with a disembodied appearance; some of his limbs were twisted in the unnatural shape of bones that belonged to a Cruciatus victim.

He had died a horrible death

The impact of seeing it crushed him, causing a loud sob to escape his throat. He felt someone touch his shoulder and before he could pull away, he realized it was McGonagall. They both turned around when they heard someone running into the ruins of the house and instinctively raised their wands.

"What's happened here?! Sirius Black was in a panic. "I came here after receiving word on a brutal attack on the Longbottoms." Sirius's face fell as he inspected the damage further, eyes searching frantically for his friends, his family. "No," he denied, shaking his head, "please, no." With a sinking feeling, he spotted Remus with tears running down his cheeks and looked down at the crumbled body of his only family, his brother in every way but blood. "James!" he screamed.

"I'm sorry Sirius." Remus stood and tried to keep his friend from looking at the body. "Let me go, Moony!" Sirius screamed. His heart twisted painfully when he saw James' eyes open and blank with death.

"He's dead, Sirius…" Remus said in a trembling voice. "There is nothing we can do…" Sirius ripped himself from Lupin and kneeled over his best friend. He placed his hands on the bloody corpse's cheeks, having to feel if it was real. "Dammit, James, you promised you wouldn't." He hugged the body and sobbed, covering himself in blood, "we were brothers always, remember." When he felt Remus grasp his shoulder in support, he scooted away from the body, and stood angrily. "DAMN YOU, JAMES!" he shouted before he clasped a hand over his eyes.

On shaky legs, he stood and faced Lupin, meeting his equally anguished eyes and feeling unbearable guilt erupt in his chest.

Remus knew at once it hadn't been him, that he hadn't been the keeper. But who had?"

Sirius' face became stony, his eyes the only thing betraying his current state. But he was ready for action. "I am going to kill that son of a bitch! I am going to KILL him!" He said with a voice that clearly wasn't trying to hide his hatred and detest of the man. He allowed his temper to cool before he asked in a more subdued voice, "What of Lily and Harry?" Fully believing them already dead also.

Rubeus Hagrid stood at the doorway; he had accompanied Sirius to the house. He stood there observing the scene before him. Finding it unbearable to watch, he turned and walked out to the Potter lawn, placing his hands over his giant face and weeping into them. The disaster before him was something he had never wanted to see. He had been hired as a gamekeeper by Dumbledore and remembered when little Lily Evans had first come to Hogwarts in 1966; she had always visited and talked to him. It was as if she had taken in upon herself to not be taken back by his appearance and become his friend, she had always had such a big heart. Lily didn't deserve to have this fall upon her family.  
/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Having turned away from the lifeless body of James Potter, Dumbledore carefully ascended the unstable staircase. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable cry of an infant, and hope sprung back into his light-blue eyes.

As he had entered the house, he had been bewildered by what he had felt. He had felt the powerful magic that had befallen the house: a signature of very dark magic in the air, but what baffled him was the abundance of very powerful light magic.

He reached the top of the staircase, his wand out, ready for any danger. The first thing he saw was Lily Potter sprawled on the floor. Dead. Next to her was a large scorch mark. The older wizard approached the source of the crying and looked upon the infant.

Little Harry was drenched from head to foot, his scar aching from the water entering his deep wound. Dumbledore reached into the crib and dried the baby's clothes and a nearby blanket using his wand. He placed a Warming Charm on the blanket and wrapped it around the boy, gently picking him up as the infant looked up at him and began to calm down. The fifteenth-month-old was breathing heavily from his crying and let out only the occasional crying sound.

"You're okay now, little one. I will make sure of that," he soothed softly. Dumbledore held the infant against his shoulder, rubbing circles into his back as he slowly made his way downstairs.

Sirius, Remus, and McGonagall were just about to go upstairs, having realized that Dumbledore was no longer with them. They halted when they saw the Headmaster descend the steps with a bundle in his arms. They all stood there waiting for him to speak with their eyes wide not knowing what to expect.

Sirius and Remus raised their eyes in question about Lily's state.

Dumbledore shook his head with downcast eyes, and the pair's faces immediately fell. Sirius fisted his hands at his sides, fearing that if he let himself grieve again, he would never be able to stop. Remus just stood there with a dead look in his wet eyes; he appeared defeated. Dumbledore pulled back the blanket so they could see Harry was still alive, which offered an exhale of relief for such a miracle.

"What happened here, Albus?" asked McGonagall as she reached out for the baby and repeated the Headmaster's actions of soothing the boy.

Albus was ready to formulate the answer he knew he would have to give the magical community. "From the feel of the magic in this house and from what we can all see, I can speculate Voldemort entered this house, dueled with James, and I can assume that Lily took the Killing curse for Harry. The curse must have rebounded when Voldemort attacked Harry, effectively vanquishing him."

"You're saying Harry did this?! He killed Voldemort himself… How is this possible? " Remus said taken aback.

Staring at the infant in amazement, the Deputy Headmistress asked, "Is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named truly dead?"

Shaking his head in the negative, Dumbledore dreaded to say, "No, he is not dead. Voldemort was a very powerful and dark wizard. I have reason to believe Voldemort has gone further than anyone has ever dared to venture into the dark secrets that would help him achieve immortality." Gasps of horror could be heard at the abomination. "As for Harry, I think the rebounding of the curse has more to do with the magic Lily Potter made possible by sacrificing her life for him."

McGonagall furrowed her eyebrows in deep thought. "What of Harry now? There is no doubt this story will spread. The name 'Harry Potter' will be known by every magical person and creature alike. There will not be a child who will not know of his fame. Not to mention, there are still Death Eaters out there that would do anything to avenge their fallen master."

Dumbledore looked at Sirius who had been made the Harry's godfather, and saw him look away from the group with an angry expression.

Peter Pettigrew had changed the concept of being a godfather and the realization of it angered Sirius. The overwhelming guilt of making him keeper made him feel responsible for avenging his godson's parents.

"The magic that protected Harry tonight is very powerful and ancient; it entails the willing sacrifice of a loved one to protect another. I know of a spell that can strengthen this, and I can use the blood that runs through Harry, Lily's blood to be exact, so that he can live without a threat of danger. To accomplish this, Harry will have to live with his only remaining family. The estranged sister of Lily, Petunia Evans, or as I have now learned, is Petunia Dursley."

Remus shook his head. "You can't be serious, Albus! They hate everything having to do with the magical world. She told Lily she hated her before she severed all the connections to the only family she had left. Who knows how they will treat him? There must be another way," said the werewolf adamantly. He cast a look at a still Sirius.

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "I fear there is no other way, Harry will be safest this way. Hagrid can take Harry for tonight and protect him while I make some arrangements for tomorrow."

At this, McGonagall frowned. "Are you sure we can trust Hagrid with such a task?"

"Minerva, I trust Hagrid with my life," Dumbledore answered with a twinkle in his eyes.

Sirius took a few steps out of the house before saying, "Moony, if Albus says he can do this to protect Harry, than we should accept it, at least he will live," over his shoulder.

"Sirius, don't be so rash." Remus caught his friend's arm. "Don't do this, Sirius. Fight for him."

Faltering, Sirius gazed back at his precious godson, staring back at Remus. "How could I look into his face or hold him in my arms, knowing what I took from him, knowing that I didn't do anything to catch the righteous little coward that signed them over to that bastard," he said softly to his friend. "Don't come with me, Remus."

Remus bowed his head, letting him go, his body tense. "Tell me who it was, Sirius."

Sirius shook his head. It would destroy him to see the werewolf break apart over what he himself was about to do. "If you don't take him, make sure he's safe," the animagus said dismissively.

And Sirius, knowing his nephew was safe now, stormed out of the house ready for revenge. He tossed the keys to his flying motorcycle to Hagrid and said, "I trust you will protect my godson with your life," before Apparating away in search of a certain Marauder.

Hagrid hurriedly wiped his eyes as he heard the others approach him; he had heard their conversation and knew of his current orders. McGonagall, who had been given Harry to hold, reluctantly pushed the bundle into his arms, showing where he was to place his hands to support the infant. The groundskeeper sadly looked at the boy. With the war going on, he hadn't had the chance to see Harry in more than a year because the Potters had gone into hiding. Gazing down, he saw the eyes of Lily Potter staring curiously back at him, and James' handsome features accompanied by a bizarre lightning shaped wound. Harry let out a sneeze and shivered. "It's gonna be k' now, lil' guy. Hagrid's got ya." He opened his large coat and held the baby to his chest in order to warm him.

Remus had been given a Portkey with orders to drink some Calming Potion before he was to go and help the other Order members in catching the Death Eaters who were fully aware of the demise of Voldemort and were now attacking unorganized and erratically. McGonagall was to alert the Order of the Phoenix members of the situation and stand guard over the students of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore gave Hagrid his instructions and watched him disappear into the clouds with Harry. The Headmaster had a very long night ahead of him; he would have to speak to the Ministry, arrange for the burial of Lily and James Potter, and make the preparations that would ensure the well-being of their only son.


	2. Demons

_**Disclaimer:**__ Potter world belongs to J.K I'm afraid. No infringement intended. _

_**Warning**__**:**__ This has some abuse. It starts at the yelling towards the end, so roll past that is you don't feel like reading it. _

**Demons**

At Number Four Privet Drive, a nine-year-old Harry Potter woke up trembling. The obnoxious sounds of thunder awakened the child from a repetitive nightmare of a screaming woman and a green flash of light.

Breathing heavily, he tightly pulled the covers around himself. He didn't understand why lightning always made him see the horrible sight. The only thing he did know was that he'd been having the nightmare for as long as he could remember.

The screaming was endless, confusing, and made him feel like he'd lost something he currently had no knowledge of. It shook him to no end and terrified him so much that once Uncle Vernon had been forced, as he had told Harry, to teach him a lesson about screaming out in the middle of the night.

Harry hadn't really learned anything but to try to keep quite at all costs.

Harry pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and wiping his tear-stained cheeks in the process. He slowly began to rock himself like he always did. He had seen Dudley have nightmares, and although he never had the experience himself, he remembered when his Aunt Petunia would rock him and hum until Dudley would fall back to sleep. Slowly, he succumbed to a dreamless slumber.

"GET UP RIGHT NOW, BOY!! I'M WARNING YOU, YOU USELESS BRAT!" Vernon Dursley banged on the door to the cupboard under the stairs, yelling for his nephew to get up and fulfill his duty of cooking for the entire Dursley family in the morning. Today was a school day.

Harry sat up in his bed, if he could even call it that. His room, ever since he could remember, had been the tiny space under the stairs. He observed his domain: his bed, which was up against the right wall, was a four foot wide cot with broken springs--it had most likely been found in a dumpster. Next to his bed, a small and worn bedside table stood with a faded blue lamp; across from him was a shelf with all the toys he had ever received-- all five of them had been his Cousin Dudley's old, broken toys.

Harry hurriedly made his way to his door, hoping to avoid the huge shower of dust his cousin intentionally caused every morning since he had figured that if he used his chubby legs to kick at the floor during a tantrum, his cousin would appear covered in dust and spiders.

In that train of thought, the young boy hurried down into the bathroom at the end of the hall. Luckily, no one had noticed him.

He was safe for now.

Harry took a quick shower--Aunt Petunia said he didn't deserve more than three minutes under the lukewarm water. Dressed in his school uniform, the nine-year-old wore second-hand khakis, a pair of worn loafers that were two inches to big, and a blue tenting Oxford shirt, neatly tucked in as much as he could (it would look lumpy otherwise).

His relatives sent him to 'St. Thomas Catholic School'. The Dursleys had reminded him often, meaning almost every day, that the only reason that they were sending him to school with Dudley was because they didn't want the neighbors asking strange questions about him. Harry didn't really mind, he enjoyed school because it gave him more things to think about when he had nothing to do but chores.

Hesitating as he grasped the door knob, Harry took a deep breath before he opened the door to find himself face-to-face with his cousin. Dudley gave him a malicious grin before pushing the small boy back.

With a resounding 'thud', Harry fell hard onto the floor, the wind getting knocked out of him. Pressing his lips together, the small boy winced in pain but said nothing. Not a sound escaped his lips. Talking back to Dudley would only welcome more pain.

"Get up, boy! What are you doing lying about? Where is my food?!" Vernon Dursley had just come through the door and had a brand new newspaper in his pudgy hand.

Harry knew Uncle Vernon had seen him get knocked down. No one cared that it had hurt. He was a freak; the small boy knew his place. Nothing would change it.

"I just fell, Uncle Vernon. I'll start cooking right away." Harry kept his eyes down, imagining that his uncle was like a wild animal that would see eye contact as a direct challenge and attack.

Uncle Vernon ignored him and turned to Dudley. "You ready for school, son?" he said while punching the massive boy playfully on the arm as he spoke. "Come on! I'll play with you a bit before school starts." He took Dudley by the hand and led him to his large playroom on the first floor.

A flash of jealousy and longing crossed Harry's face as he watched Dudley glance back at him with a huge grin.

Harry dusted himself off, getting up and rushing to the kitchen his Aunt Petunia always kept obsessively clean. He reached under the counter for a skillet and had to get on a step stool to turn on the oven and prepare the eggs and bacon.

Careful to make sure that no egg was burned, he served the plates, making sure he got the smallest portion and left at least two extra servings for Dudley and Uncle Vernon.

A few weeks ago, Dudley had tripped him as he was setting the table and he had accidentally broken three plates. Dudley had immediately yelled out to tell on him, and he had earned a slap in the face, indecent names a child of his age should never be called, and three days locked under the cupboard under the stairs without food.

The day they had removed the chains, he had been ordered to wash the filth off himself and cook breakfast. He had made the mistake of putting a little more food on his plate. The action had cost him to be called "ungrateful" and "selfish", and he had been given a long list of chores to complete before he was allowed to eat a piece of hard bread and a tiny block of cheese.

_It was unbelievable he hadn't collapsed._

"Breakfast is served," Harry called after he had set the table, keeping his voice down just in case they thought he was being deliberately defiant.

_Just another day existing_, Harry thought bitterly.

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Completely alone, not that it was a new concept to the child, Harry sat in the far deserted corner of the school courtyard and entertained himself by building castles, digging a large hole to use as a moat. He winced as a rock struck him on the back of the head.

Dudley was the biggest kid in school, he and his gang would bully all the other children to do their bidding and give them what they demanded. Dozens of kids had been withdrawn from school after being beaten, not one of them had told their parents about Dudley under threat of death.

Harry knew that not even his cousin could go that far, but frankly, with enough provocation, his uncle might be capable. Harry didn't want to find out; the threats were enough.

Dudley had assured Harry he would make his school life miserable. No one was allowed to speak or play with Harry or they would be targeted by Dudley and his gang. His cousin practically ran the whole school. It was so bad; Spenser Cannings was rumored to have been sent for psychiatric evaluation after intense coercion from Dudley. His crime: refusing to beat up a small girl to the pulp for Dudley's entertainment.

Today, it was apparently Harry's turn to be ambushed.

"Owwww!" Another larger rock had struck him on the shoulder. Several rocks followed the first and Harry was tired of it. He saw Bruce Hager, from his cousin's gang, hiding behind a bush. He glared at him, temper rapidly rising.

"Stop it!" The other boy just laughed and continued his throwing, the stones were getting larger. Harry was infuriated. iWhy was it always him who had to suffer?!/i

Glancing about for any monitoring teacher, Harry saw none of them in the immediate area. No one would care anyways; they didn't see. He was an invisible burden and they hated him, thought he was untouchable, ugly. No one had ever given him a hug or said anything nice at all about him because there was nothing desirable about an orphan whose drunken parents had died in a car crash.

Harry was so tired of being hurt, of numbing himself to the pain.

Hyperventilating, Harry fisted his hands until they hurt, getting up and feeling a strange sensation all over his body. It felt like pins and needles and his chest felt so heavy and painful. A force came from his body in erratic waves and he could feel something powerful fueling his emotion. He looked at the bush again and it burst into flames.

"AHHHHHHH!" Bruce screamed and jumped back, away from the bush. "What in the world?!" he yelled and soon after fainted into a bed of leaves.

Harry glanced down at his hands as if he expected to find himself in another body. He couldn't have done that himself. Fear erupted in his chest as he glanced up to find that all the bushes were on fire. As fast as he could, he sprinted for the school building in search of help.

"Where do you think you're going?!" His cousin Dudley and his other cronies had circled him and blocked his path to the school building.

Harry was out of breath from his run and was hunched over, clutching his knees. "Let me through!"

"Look at him giving orders as if he could do something about it!" Dudley chuckled, his double chin flopping up and down as he did so. He began to circle Harry and knocked him to the ground. "Let's teach this freak a lesson!" They all began to kick and punch him mercilessly.

Harry managed to get up and make a run for it, stopping with a groan when he approached a dead end. The three story school blocked any exits, and the larger boys approached in a semi-circle around him with grins on their faces. Harry looked up to the building, searching for any grooves he could use to climb. If he could only get up there!

Two boys, who Harry knew as Charlie and Davis, pressed him up against the wall, holding him up so that the others could use him as a punching bag. Harry was used to being beaten; however, his eyes widened in horror when he saw the boys show him a brown paper bag.

_How could they know about it?_

He had been so careful not to let others catch on. Months ago, while playing in the courtyard, he had found a baby snake between some weeds. It was a harmless tree snake. He had taken it upon himself to feed, and as surprising as it was, to talk to the snake. The snake could talk! It could have been his imagination, but Harry had understood its hisses as natural speech. The snake had quickly become his one and only friend and companion. When no one was looking, he would sneak up to the School's garden during recess and spend some time with it.

"What, Potty Boy, you didn't think we would find out about it?" Stanley Voltaire was walking toward him with a smile on his face. Harry struggled against his holders.

"Let it go! Please!" Harry watched, his heart thumping in his chest and anger quickly flaring, as Voltaire threw the brown bag on the floor and jumped on it. Blood drenched the bag.

Harry felt like he'd just lost the only thing he cared for in the world.

"NOOOOOO!" Harry felt the same sensation from earlier pump through his body and all the other boys were thrown back hard. There was so much anger within him just fighting to get out.

An invisible force was pulsating from Harry in waves. He made his way to Stanley Voltaire, who was at least twice his size, and lifted him easily off the ground, his emerald eyes wild; he punched him and heard the sickening sound of his nose breaking. Harry felt no pain at all; all he could feel was the force driving him to inflict as much pain as possible, to push the hurt away by giving it to others.

"Mummy, help!" Voltaire cried pathetically as his nose spurted freely with blood. He tried desperately to shield his face, fear and pain screwing up his face and making him look weak and small. Harry let him fall to the ground and picked up Dudley.

Harry felt like he was floating and watching the scene from afar. The numbness felt so good, all encompassing, and Harry didn't want it to end. He didn't want to be weak, didn't want to get beaten ever again or have to block out harsh insults.

The other children in the playground had run to circle them, and some of Dudley's cronies had run and hid after they had been terrified by the force that threw them down. In his stupor, Dudley had forgotten to run. The other kids were now cheering, seeing the bullies finally get what they deserved.

Harry pinned Dudley to the wall and his cousin's eyes widened in fear as Harry made to punch him in the stomach. No one had ever beaten his cousin; the pig had no real idea of what pain was. Harry hated him for making him feel dirty and so undesirable, as if he was below him in every sense of thee word. He hated him for feeling no guilt at all when Harry was holding back tears when the pain was excruciating. The young boy felt every punch, every push, every derogatory remark, every break of skin, and every demeaning activity he was ever made to do.

He beat Dudley for all the years of torture he had endured. After the feeling started to fade, when Dudley looked terrified, Harry was starting to feel some of the rage burn away. Dudley fainted and fell to the ground.

Harry's blazing emerald eyes searched for the other boys who had made his entire life a living hell. The invisible force Harry had released earlier had made their escape impossible. Each of them were scattered across the school yard hanging upside down as if being held up to invisible ropes tied to the air. They were waving their arms; terrified. Several of them had fainted over fright. Harry was astonished as to what was happening around him. He had been so angry over the murder of his snake that he had just let the fury run through him, and his body had almost acted on itself, like it was revenging years of torment.

The nine-year-old looked over to where the bushes were and found that the flames had spread to a tree and that most of the vegetation was ablaze. He glanced back at the kids who had been cheering and realized that they were looking at him as if he was a creature. Many were frightened, and backed away from him, thinking he would hurt them too.

He was taken aback by the look in their eyes. Was he really freak? He looked down on himself as if repulsed, the last thing he wanted was to be feared and be thought of as different. He ran, closing his eyes, wishing to be anywhere but there, willing it all to become a dream and for him to wake up in his bed. He came to a stop and realized he was on the school roof. How had he ended up here? He glanced down and saw the children pointing at him and he tried to hide in the ledge as the Headmistress met his eyes.

_Not one of them saw_, Harry thought, not _one of them cares for the freak. _Why did he bother?

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Petunia and Vernon Dursley sat in the comfy chairs offered to them by the Headmistress. They were patiently waiting for her to receive an urgent fax and discuss why they were there. They looked at each other, worried that their freak of a nephew had done something to tarnish their reputations. Vernon had been called from work to be at the meeting. Petunia had been in the process of watching if Janice, three doors down, was in fact in the middle of a scandalous divorce.

Upon entering the school, they had thought their Dudley had been hurt. They had seen other students' parents leading their children to their cars, and when they had walked into the school they had spotted a fire truck pull away. Most of the bushes and trees in the courtyard had been badly burned or destroyed. They had been subjected to stares and vicious glares by whom they thought were their friends and good neighbors. Even as they were led by the school nurse to see their beat up son in the infirmary, it had done nothing to appease their growing dread. Dudley seemed afraid of something and had refused to speak, not even allowing the nurse to get near to him.

Nothing was adding up and they were, quite frankly, confused.The Headmistress, Sister Elverly, was taping her foot impatiently, standing in front of the Dursleys with an angry expression, nostrils flaring, and her hair askew under its covering. The Dursleys wrung their hands uncomfortably; already thinking of scenarios and horrible things their nine-year-old nephew could have done.

They had given the boy nasty and intimidating looks when they had passed him on their way to the office. The child had been sitting next to a police officer with his head hung, he appeared to be trembling and he was crying softly. They were disgusted; whatever he had done, he was going to pay for it!

The fax machine sprung to life and the Headmistress jumped towards it with a look of victory crossing her already pruned features. "It has finally arrived!" She turned to the Dursleys appearing temporarily insane in her haste, "I suppose you're wondering why you are here? Your nephew, Harry James Potter," she read quickly, glancing down, "has attacked several students, set the school on fire, and among other bizarre events(she had not wanted to say they had taken the good part of the afternoon getting the kids in the air down), he has destroyed and trespassed upon school property. He is a delinquent of the worse kind! I am more than relived to get his kind out of here!

She paused for what she apparently thought would be sufficient for a dramatic pause before she spat, "He is as of now EXPELLED! Your son, who has probably been tampered with by the boy, will also be expelled! Your disgrace is unbearable by our school and you are no longer welcome to our church!"

She wildly glanced around, looking half mad further silencing the shocked and horrified Dursley family. "I BELIEVE THAT LITTLE DEMON FREAK TO BE POSSESED AND I SUGGEST YOU GET HIM HELP! Now take your vermin with you and leave! Now!!" she sprayed them with spittle as she said the last words with wild anger.

Vernon, not easily intimidated, stood up ready to threaten the crazy nun, but he felt a pull on his shoulder. "Petunia, she has no right to speak of our son in that way!" His wife closed her eyes, her face red, shaking her head, and pleading with her eyes for them to leave.

Vernon burst through the door, violently grabbed Harry by the arm, and led him to the car. Petunia took Dudley from the infirmary, and wore an impassive look on her face. Vernon tossed Harry into the back furiously, hardly restraining himself from doing what he really wanted to do to the boy, who was still trembling and was obviously scared. The Dursley sat in the front with the still silent Dudley sandwiched between them, while Harry sat looking out the window in the back.

They arrived at the house, Vernon stormed inside. Petunia led Dudley inside too. Harry was left in the car, and for a second he considered running away. Surely no one would care…but where could he go? Where wouldn't he be seen as a freak and risk getting treated worse? If it turned out to be worse Harry wouldn't be able to come back.

_He was so very alone…_

He knew his parents were dead, or they wouldn't have left him there. Since he'd been small he'd witnessed all the things a parent was supposed to do. In his own little world, locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, he had imagined they were there with him sometimes and that they would give him presents on his birthday and Christmas. He'd draw what toy they would give them or imagine what they would do together.

His mother would always hold him in her arms as if he was special and his dad would ruffle his hair and tell him how proud he was to have Harry as a son. They would smile down at him and they never raised a hand to Harry or told him how wrong his existing was. Together they'd take him to school and he'd have friends and he'd be able to actually do well in his studies without worrying about his relatives and how they'd think he was trying to make Dudley look bad.

NO! Harry couldn't dwell on what could have been if his parents hadn't died and left him alone. Leaning his forehead against the window, Harry caught his reflection. The boy looked so ugly and small to him--nose bloodied, black eye, busted lip. What a pathetic sight and he hated it, he hated that boy. Harry raised his fist and he just wanted to beat the image away, he wanted to break it and scream and cry because it wasn't fair. So ugly that no one would ever touch him, so horrible, he was so bad that he deserved what he got for being a freak. He had beaten his cousin and his friend and he felt so horrible for losing control to whatever i_dirty_/ithing was inside him. The glass wouldn't break and Harry let out a cry of frustration because not even beating his fist against the window had been harsh enough to hurt his hands, his filthy demon hands.

_All he wanted was to be loved…to be held…._

It was a terrible feeling to experience; not being loved. It was something he wouldn't wish upon his worse enemies. There was never an acknowledgment on the day of his birthday, nor a cake, not even a gift. He received nothing for Christmas, except for when he'd been five; he had not even bothered to look under the tree and Dudley had screamed that he'd gotten one. Easily, the young boy could remember the great feeling he'd gotten as he had slowly opened the box, treasuring every second of it, just to find it empty. The Dursleys had laughed at his expense. The entire day, he had been consumed with such sadness.

Resigned, Harry reluctantly opened the car door, making his way to the house, dreading every step he took. Eying the door and windows for any sign of movement, he slowly reached a shaking hand towards the doorknob before he was pulled in by the bony arm of Petunia Dursley.

"HOW DARE YOU!" she hissed.

Harry tried not to cry out as she grabbed his shoulder in a painful hold.

"You ungrateful swine! I provide you with a home, a bed, and this is how you thank us!" Her eyes were so angry. "Did you know you got Dudley expelled with yourself today?!" His Aunt Petunia was red-faced and towering over him, her bony hand came down on his cheeks several times, until he could taste the metallic flavor of blood. Still furious, she released her nephew and let her husband come through. She stomped down the hall and into the bathroom to tend her son's wounds.

Body trembling, Harry looked up at Vernon, his enormous mass above him; he was furious, his face was red, and he was breathing like a bull.

Harry was terrified.

Like a honed missile, his uncle's fist came down onto Harry's ribs and he flew across the room towards the wall. A crunch was obvious in the air as the blunt force snapped his ribcage. "YOU HAVE DISGRACED US," the man bellowed, stalking towards the boy.

Whimpering and fearing for his life, Harry got as close to the wall as he could, horrified when his uncle disappeared and returned with the chain used to lock Harry up in the cupboard.

"What will the neighbors say?!" he continued on as he was retrieving the heavy chain. "If I'm lucky I won't lose my job." A slash was heard as the chain came down.

_**WHOOSH**__! _

Everything in Harry's body flared with pain.

"I'm being sued for damage to the school! And you have ruined us, laid your filthy hands on my son, and tried to taint us with your disgusting freakishness."

_**WHOOSH**__!_

"Thanks to you, our reputation is destroyed. My Dudley would be lucky to get admitted into Smeltings now," he shouted.

_**WHOOSH! **_

Harry felt as if his lungs were burning, and he was choking as if he wasn't receiving any air.

_**WHOOSH! **_

It hurt so badly and the most the small boy could do was turn around as the chain wrapped around him. His voice was becoming hoarse as he used his last remaining strength to cry out for help.

_**WHOOSH! **_

Feeling like he was about to pass out, Harry's eyes widened as green flames consumed his entire body and all the years of agonizing torture and abuse erupted to the surface, fueling the fire. Everything around him was being scorched and the wind had picked up speed, forming a vortex that was flinging everything out of its path. He grasped the chain just as it was about to hit him in the back of the head for the second time and pulled on it with an amazing amount of strength, snatching it out of Vernon Dursley's iron grip. The power in his body erupted and seemed to sustain him and keep him from feeling the pain temporarily.

However, the eruption caused the house to explode with such a force that his Uncle was flung against the wall and fell to the floor, his head bleeding. Harry looked to the side and realized that the house was being consumed with green flames, and the wind was whipping the walls and roof, seeking escape. The licks of wind and fire had seemed to entwine with each other, causing the house to explode with a deafening explosion. When the air cleared, Harry spotted his Aunt and Dudley lying on the street, some debris had fallen on them when they had been thrown from the house. Abruptly the flames stopped, only a protective shell remained, protecting Harry and keeping him alive.

Terrified, Harry scooted himself to the corner. Was he really human? Maybe he was a freak, or a demon like his Headmistress had said? He was in shock; trembling as he thought about what the consequences of his actions would be. He bent himself into a comfortable position, feeling the warm flames on his skin; he laid his head on his lap, afraid about what terror would lie before him. He didn't even know if the Dursleys were alive, and the thought of murdering anyone, no matter how terrible they were, made him feel as if he had just committed an abominable crime. Where would he go? What would be done to him?


	3. Once Upon A Time

_**Disclaimer: J.K owns this world, no infringement is intended. **_

_**A/N: Hey!!! This is my first fanfic, actually it's the first story I have ever written. Period. Lol. Please review so that I know what you think and so that I can improve upon my writing. R&R!!!!!! Enjoy!**_

**Once Upon a Time****  
**  
"Daddy, read me the story again!" 

Arthur Weasley watched as his small eight-year-old daughter jumped on his bed. He chuckled when he saw the little girl had stolen her brother Ron's old Chudley Cannons pajamas; they were way too big on her. Out of all his seven children, Ginny had been the only girl.

He remembered the day he had been handed the baby by the flushed Molly on the hospital bed. Molly had said, "Take her carefully, Arthur. You finally have a beautiful little girl." with a wide and tired small on her face. He had shifted to glance at the face of the smallest angel he had ever seen. He had stared in awe: her hair had been the most unique and lively red hue he had ever seen, her porcelain skin seemed to highlight her gorgeous features, and her eyes were a bright chocolate brown. Tears had streamed down his face as he gazed down at his precious daughter.

His little girl was as clever, mischievous, kind-hearted, and as bravest as they come. She had a nasty piece of magic up her sleeve as well.

Just last summer, her twin brothers Fred and George had played a prank in which they had put blue ink in her shampoo. Her hair had been dyed bright blue three whole weeks before it had washed out. Needless to say, Ginny had been so angry she had gone up to her brothers and gave them a very intense piece of her mind.

It hadn't been until the pair had looked down, that they had realized that Ginny had unintentionally used magic to shrink and then connect all the boys' clothing together. Their trousers were seamlessly attached to their shirts and knickers. It was impossible to take their clothes off the normal way. Molly had been so angry at her sons that she had refused to fix the problem with her wand, saying they deserved every second spent in their too tight and fused clothing. Arthur had given them a pair of scissors to cut away the mess out of pure pity.

"Daddy, you promised you would read it before you went to work because you were too tired last night!" Ginny wore her puppy dog look she knew always just melted her father down.

"Pumpkin, I've barely awoken yet. Besides sweetheart, you know how to read it yourself! "

"No, I love the way you read it! Please!!!!!"

"Okay Pumpkin, get Percy's book, 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts' from his shelf. Meet me in the living room in a little bit."

Ginny jumped off the bed in search of the book.

Arthur put on his nightdress, shoving his feet into his comical bunny slippers. He made his way downstairs, already smelling the sweet scent of his wife's excellent breakfast banquet.

"Good Morning, Ron!" He ruffled his youngest son's hair as the boy descended the stairs in front of him.

"Morning, Dad!" The nine-and-a- half-year-old replied with a smile, although his eyes were sleepy looking. 

"So…How did the chess tournament at the park yesterday go? Don't keep me in suspense!"

Ron seemed to wake up immediately and swerved his head around. "I WON!!!! They told me I was the youngest player in history to have beaten the most experienced adult players in the district!"

Arthur flipped his son with his arm and heaved him onto his shoulder in a sitting position, raising his small arms in a triumph pose.

"I am so proud! My son! Who would have thought you'd be a strategy genius at such an age!" Arthur excitedly flipped the boy from his shoulder and flung him into a strong bone-crushing hug. "I love you son...Now, fetch me that grand metal! I want every one to see what a brilliant boy I have. I think its time I make a nameplate for you on the trophy wall."

"Really?! Luv ya too, Dad!" Ron jumped down from his father's arms, grinning ear to ear from the praise. "Here, let me set the metal on your dresser so you don't forget!" Forgetting his hunger, Ron sprinted up the stairs to fetch his first metal.

Arthur smiled proudly at his son Ronald.

Ronald Bilius Weasley had been a joyful addition to his already large family. Most of their children had been born during the reign of Voldemort; however, Ronald had come at a time when Voldemort was at his prime and targeting members of the opposition strongly. When Molly had told him she had become pregnant, Arthur hadn't been able to help but feel a slight sense of guilt. i _How was it fair to birth children into a world where tomorrow was uncertain? /i _

On March 1st, 1980, Ron had been born. He had refused to cry out after he had been delivered from the womb. The parents had grown frantic until Healer Mills had pointed his wand at the Newborn's chest and had inflated his lungs with oxygen. The child had let out an angry wail, as if he had been awoken from a lazy slumber. Molly had released Arthur's already crushed hand to hold the baby in her arms. They had looked at the infant; with vibrant blue eyes, and wispy rust-colored hair, he had been a very handsome little fellow.

Ron had been the quietest of his sons, hardly a crier, but always wanting a fair large amount of food. It had not taken long for Arthur and Molly to discover their son's forte. Although, he was lazy and was not as well driven--from being in the shadow of his five older brothers no doubt--they did see what a great logical thinker he was.

If you were looking for any well-thought-out plan, Ron was the one to go to. Arthur regularly consulted him for opinions on some of his minor cases at work. His son was also brave, and if he really set his mind to it, he could be brilliant. Ron had an immense compassion for others, and even though he was sometimes tactless with his words, he knew he had a grand heart and would stay loyal to those important to him.

He and Molly loved each of their children like they were a treasure to behold. They would sacrifice anything for them. Even though they continually struggled to make ends meet, they had prided themselves in encouraging their children's dreams. They wanted them to live for their happiness; to think from the heart. They had always taught all of their children that material possessions were nothing worth brooding about. Pure blood, magical power, wealth, or malicious ambition ideals were foolish endeavors. Those things would never grant happiness. The real values in life lay in family, trust, honesty, loyalty, kindness, memories, dreams, and loving those who care for you.

"Good morning gorgeous!" Arthur wrapped his arms around his wife's waist as she flipped the bacon. They exchanged a sweet morning kiss.

"Great sleep, dear? I do wonder how that occurred! Honestly, a 'so called' exhausted husband does usually let his wife catch a wink instead of insinuating 'certain' nighttime activities."

"Molly!!! How could you say such a thing? I place the blame completely on you by the way! How preposterous it is… to expect a man to resist the temptations caused by a beautiful woman lying in bed next to him?!" He answered slyly with a large grin and wink.

"You always were a charmer! It really isn't fair to me." She smiled at him and gave him a playful swat on the arm.

"Arthur, is there any post from Percy or the twins?"

"No, dear. You know how we suspected they would behave at school. Especially with Percy, his third year exams are coming up, and he most definitely has his nose glued to a book." Arthur went to the counter and served himself a cup of coffee as his wife was serving the plates with hot eggs, sausages, and sizzling bacon.

"GINNY! RON! BREAKFAST TIME!" Molly Weasley sighed as she saw her daughter had discarded the cute nightgown she had bought her for one of Ron's old pyjamas. No matter how hard she tried-- Ginny always preferred to be one of the boys. Molly guessed it probably was very lonely having six older brothers and not a girl in sight. Molly knew the feeling all too well. She looked at Ron and saw the smile her husband had just placed on the boy's face. i _He had always been a great father! /i _

"There's my little Champion!" Molly addressed Ron and set his plate in front of him, giving a kiss in the cheek and a hearty "Good Morning!" Ron blushed and looked down at his food with a smile on his face.

"Ginny, set the book down on the counter. I'm sure your father will read it to you after having his fill of breakfast."

Ginny set the book down, reaching on tip-toe to set the text on top of the counter. She received her plate and her very own morning kiss and hug.

It didn't take long for the clatter of forks on plates to begin.

After eating, Arthur and Molly took their youngest children to the cozy sitting room.

Most people would walk past a house like the Burrow without a second glance. It was a large and elongated structure, built with wooden oak clapboards, and an air about it that spoke the age and memories of those who lived there. You couldn't find a homier place. Molly had loved it since the moment she had set her eyes upon it. It wasn't just a house... it was a home.

Its warm interior was decorated in soft hues and beautiful memories. Sure, the house was old, creaky, tended to spring leaks, and had a ghoul taking residence in the attic-- it was home. Molly would never leave the place, even if Arthur found a giant cauldron filled with galleons during a troll dance recital!

Arthur chose the center of the couch to settle. Ginny jumped onto his lap, using his shoulder as a headrest to look at the illustrations in the book. Ron shrugged and chose to listen to the story too. He had heard it so many times; nonetheless, the story never lost its edge and mesmerism.

Molly used her wand to put the household charms to work. Then, she too sat down on her husband's vacant side. They comfortably huddled together and looked on as the patriarch located the page the story was written.

The actual story was a popular children's book, but the textbook had attained the rights to take the exact story, including illustrations, and placed it in the book as is-- but for informative purposes.  
Arthur cleared his throat, and he read: i  
_  
"Not so long ago, there was a very powerful wizard. His name, to this day, is so feared- -we still dare not speak his name. He-Who-Must Not-Be-Named pillaged and plundered around the world for the dark secrets that had been buried since ancient times._

He quickly learned the darkest of spells. On the forefront, the Unforgivables: Cruciatus, Imperio, and the Killing Curse. He used these spells to start a reign of terror that had never before been seen in this world. You-Know-Who was rumored to be ten times worse than the dark wizard legend Grindenwald. He was cruel, merciless, ambitious, and bore a hatred for non-pure magical bloodlines and Muggles. 

Eventually, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named led a band of loyal servants called Death Eaters. Times grew even darker...

The starting point?--Great Britain itself.

On the horizon for the Dark Lord--Conquering the world.

He ignored magical laws created to make war organized. Instead, he attacked where he wasn't expected, made strikes at those exposed, and moved on to the next target quickly to evade capture; all the while, using tactical plans to manage the collapse of the political systems of the world.

There was said to be a brilliant resistance forming to protect the world from the clutches of evil. Knew they not that a spy was in their midst?--We may never know. The wizards and witches fought valiantly against the Death Eaters. Were they not so outnumbered, they could have gained the upper-hand and claimed victory.

However, that was not to be so...They were eliminated one by one; their betrayer feeding information to the forces of darkness. The resistance met no support...fear had corrupted the bravery of most. The end was nearing...

Just as hope was about to be crushed...good was delivered.

James Potter, from the esteemed and wealthy Guinevere and Edward Potter family, and his wife Lily Evans Potter had borne a son; a powerful and handsome boy.

He was destined to save us all!

With eyes said to have the power to captivate the hearts of a falling nation and give strength to those who seek it. The Dark Lord personally marked him for death.

Unsuspecting, the boy's parents were taken by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. As it appears, the child survived the Killing Curse and defeated the Dark Lord on one dark, stormy night. The only evidence withstanding is a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

The boy's name-- Harry James Potter.

What we have come to know him by---"The Boy-Who-Lived."

The Death Eaters were rounded one by one and with their master gone... fell easy prey to catch.

Harry James Potter is rumored to be living in happiness in a hidden castle. He only waits for the magical community to call on him again when their time of need appears. If that day comes, he will arrive through the clouds on a giant dragon, ready to lend the world his strength and deliver its people to safety."

Arthur Weasley closed the book and looked at his surrounding family members. Ginny seemed to be pondering something, Ron had a thoughtful look on his face indicating he was probably visualizing something, and his wife looked deep into his eyes with a sad expression.

Molly and Arthur had met the Potters once. They had been decent people. In this story, their death had been romanticized---skipping over the crude details of what had really happened. Dumbledore had given the confidential description only to select Ministry members, and the few surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix.

The Potters had held their own when faced with Voldemort himself. Dumbledore never did tell him what had happened to Harry Potter. Molly imagined that he had been taken to a loving family that would care for the Wizarding world's hero attentively.

"Daddy, I know the story is not all true, but do you think that Harry really is happy? If I lost my mummy and daddy I would be very sad." Ginny looked up to her parents to see them bearing small smiles for the little girl's confession.

"I don't really know baby girl; I guess all we can do is just hope he is. There can't really be much certainty unless he came back to the wizarding world himself." Arthur glanced down at his watch, noting it was about time for him to go. "I should get going!" He stood up lifting Ginny up with him, he held her up by the armpits, her head just above his. 

"You're going to be a good girl today during you mother's lessons, Pumpkin?" He dropped her to her feet as she laughed.

"Yes, Daddy. I I'll be the best ever!" Ginny grabbed the book and ran up the stairs to put it away.

Arthur held his hand out to his son in a mock formal manner; he jutted out his chin and failed horribly at hiding his smile.

"One, Two, Three, Go!!" Ron and his father did their own invented secret handshake. They shook hands, clasped them together, did an intricate pattern of finger movements, pushed each other away gently, imitated dusting off their shoulders, and pulled each other in to a back patting hug.

They had both seen a program on the telly at a friend of Arthur's house. Ron had been six at the time, and his friend had worked briefly for the American Elite Magical Republic, he had acquired a satellite with Muggle telly feeds from America. They had seen several episodes of a show with the clever hand movements, and they had picked it up and used it as for their very own little private and special greetings and departures. It was something only he and Ron shared. Ron had loved the idea that he would have something no one else did for the first time in is life.

Molly looked up to them fondly. "Arthur, get dressed quickly or you'll be late!"

Arthur rushed up the stairs and threw on his wizard robe quickly. He jogged down the stairs again and saw his wife with a slight frown, her hands on her hips.

"What is it, dear?"

Molly shook her head and pointed at his feet. 

Arthur blushed a deep crimson when he realized he had just been about to leave the house with his floppy-eared bunny slippers on.

"ACCIO SHOES!" The shoes appeared, floating next to him. He grabbed them, hurriedly put them on, and gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek as he bid farewell, walked right past her, and Apparated away to the Ministry.

He ended up at the Apparation point of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A sign behind him read:_ Level 8 Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The following Department can be found here: Auror Headquarters, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Wizengamot Administration Services, and Improper Use of Magic Office._

The floor was a collection of both organized and unorganized chaos. People were going about their business and having conversations. There were cubicles set up for the Aurors.

There had been major reforms to the Auror Department. The Minister had said that there was no longer any major need for them. The department had suffered major cutbacks, leaving some of the older Aurors unhappy and in not so pleasant moods.

Arthur carefully ducked a couple of flying interdepartmental memos and was careful to avoid the disgruntled Aurors.

"Arthur! I was just about to Floo you and see what might be keeping you." Arthur's assistant Murphy Perkins flagged him down.

"Perkins, you will not win so easily! I do have Molly on my side; she is more than capable of making sure I win! You know how she is. She'd likely drag me up here, still sleeping and in my pyjamas, if it meant getting me here on time." Arthur and Perkins had a hearty laugh at this thought.

They had an annual competition on who could get to work on time the most. Whoever arrived first was expected to Floo the other and announce the count. Arthur was up by four times. He had Flooed Perkins about ten times in the past year. Both of their wives were counting on them to win so that they could be the host of the yearly dinner.

"You know, I am starting to think you have an unfair advantage!" Perkins chuckled, giving Arthur a dismissing wave.

Murphy Perkins had two grown children, and a very nagging wife. From the times he and Molly had visited for dinner, it was apparent Perkins stories about his wife were true. He once told Arthur that he was late because his wife had chosen the morning to berate her husband about not being helpful enough to do some of the household chores.

"We have to go down to level six 'Department of Magical Transportation'. I'll explain later."

"Alright, would you rather Apparate or take the lift? I myself fancy a little exercise! If that myth about getting a little wispy after over-Apparation is true, I rather not become evidence of it!" Arthur smiled and waited patiently for his assistant's answer.

"I don't disagree. I could use a little physical exercise as well." Murphy Perkins said the last with a little pat to his belly.

He was a bit older than Arthur, had a chestnut balding head, wore glasses that rimmed his dull gray eyes, and was short and slender with a little belly.

Together they made their way to the lifts in a comfortable silence. They pushed their way in and pressed the button for the sixth floor. They then leaned against the wall and enjoyed their favorite pastime...catching up on the gossip by listening in on snippets of conversation. Arthur and Perkins loved this activity. It was usually the only way to find out what the bloody Ministry was up to.

They had always thought that the Ministry was a bit detached from the people it was supposed to govern. Apparently, they arrogantly believed themselves above 'regular folk'. It wasn't like the Officials were elected by the public. Arthur already thought the court systems had gone to the dogs. People were getting sentences based on biases, bribes, and flimsy and obscure evidence. Not to mention the lack of cooperation in non-human alliances.

The goblins, which to the day were a major and essential part of the wizarding community, were being treated without the respect they had more than earned. That was part of the reason Arthur and Perkins loved their jobs. They were fascinated with Muggles, but they also respected them--one of the few that still did. If they could protect at least one Muggle from the tampering of a wizard--they were glad to be there!  
Two witches up in the front of the lift stated socializing quite loudly--due to the fact that both seemed thoroughly agitated by something.  
_  
How's your day been Mrs. Mafalda Hopkirk?" _said one witch amusingly to the other.  
_  
"Honestly, Claire, I can not be more relieved to leave for my lunch break! The magic sensors have been acting up all morning. They won't even give a clear reading on locations. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad is breathing down our necks because we can't even get a decent reading. Seriously, how are we supposed to track underage magic effectively; if we can't even get enough funding from Fudge for simple repairs and replacements?!"_

"I know what you mean! The rest of the Ministry is getting downright rude with us because Cornelius Fudge doubled the funding for the Department of Magical Games and Sports. We really didn't ask for him to do so. I find myself watching my back because everywhere I go I feel the glare of other Ministry employees. If I would have known being Ludo Bagman's secretary was going to be such a hassle, I wouldn't have applied. . I'm surprised I haven't been hexed yet!"

"I'm sorry to hear that, Claire."

"Oh, this is where I get off. I'll see you later Mafalda! Have a great lunch."

"Good luck, Claire. Good day to you!" 

"Excuse us, everyone! This is our stop." Arthur and Perkins shoved their way off the lift and made their way to the Portkey office.

When they arrived, Perkins talked to the head of the department and filled out the proper paperwork.

"Arthur, you should look over this briefly." Perkins handed Arthur a large Manila folder.

Arthur took it and started looking through it. "Perkins, this is just a pile of regular Muggle complaints."

"I know that Arthur, but it can be a good lead. You never know--its best to investigate any matter. Now hold on the dirty boot. It'll take us to where we need to do some good old fashioned investigating."

They felt the uncomfortable pull at their navels and vanished.

"Perkins, was it really necessary for me to accompany you all the way to Little Whinging, Surrey for this?" The case file had shown that they were pursuing a very minor case of a regurgitating toilet just past Magnolia Crescent and Magnolia road. There apparently was a park there.

The thing that frustrated Arthur the most was the fact that they weren't even sure if the toilet had actually been tampered with. However, business at the Ministry had been slow lately. They had even found themselves pursuing cases of standard Muggle complaints.

The park had gotten complaints from the parents in the area saying that their children claimed to be splashed profusely with water when they had flushed the loos. For all he knew, there could be a bully in the area giving embarrassed kids swirleys. It was hardly needed that both he and his partner investigate the matter.

"Arthur, you kno..."Perkins started to explain in his over excited and maniacal voice about how it was an important job to keep good unknowing Muggles from getting hurt, when he was interrupted by a terrible noise.

**"BOOM!"**

Arthur and Perkins were knocked off their feet by an incredible Shockwave. They were thrown like rag dolls onto the gravel of a driveway five meters from where they had been walking before.

"Perkins, you okay?"

"I think I'll be alright. Just have some minor whiplash."

Instinctively, they turned their heads towards the source. A couple of houses from where they were, a house had burst into green flames. There was no doubt that magic was behind it. 

"Perkins, I need you Apparate down to the Ministry immediately! Bring plenty of Aurors- just in case. I have no idea what or who could cause such a powerful force but," Arthur couldn't help but to think of one of the most powerful wizards in the world "Make sure to let Dumbledore know as soon as possible. If anybody can sort this out it will be him. Got it? Now go!!! Make haste, ill take cover and watch for anything."

Perkins was wide-eyed now with his mouth agape, never in his twenty years in his position had he ever had so much action in one day. He shook himself and said, "I will be as quick as I can," before disappearing with a loud CRACK!

_What in the bloody hell is that? _Arthur placed simple charms on the doors of the surrounding houses to keep them from investigating. He sent the spells flying as fast he could, running behind anything-- cars, bushes, and trees. 

Arthur used all the maneuvers he could muster. If the culprit was in the house, with that much magical power, he would be dead in an instant if he asked for a confrontation. The rapid movements were having quite the strain on his not-so-young body. Besides, he hadn't ever had to really use the techniques he had learned in the Ministry's Standard Mandatory Training classes given every five years. He hadn't even gone in nearly four years!

He squatted near the car of a house two doors down from the-_ what in the bloody hell should he call it?-um_ ...explosion. He observed it: the house was mostly rubble now; the flames seemed to dissipate as quickly as they had started, debris lay in the street, and there was a soft glow of light coming from the only standing pieces of house. His adrenaline was pumping in high drive.

He spotted a crushed metal mailbox on the driveway. "ACCIO MAILBOX!" He grabbed the offending scrap of metal as it soared into his hands. It read: _"Dursley, Number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."_

_**A/N: I've already written the first ten chapters of this fic. This is my first fic and I love that people have taken the time out to review. Note: I am a college student so updating may not be as regularly as I may like but I hope to balance that out with longer, more meaningful chapters. **_


	4. Control

_**Disclaimer:**__ Everything but the plot and OC are not mine. dramatic sigh_

_**A/N:**__ Enjoy! Please read and review! This is the first thing I have ever written and I'm desperate to know what you think. _

**Control **

At the Great Hall at Hogwart's School of Witcraft and Wizardry, Rubeus Hagrid made his way to Dumbledore's high chair. The chatter from the loud and rambunctious students was at a deafening roar. He noticed that there was no one besides the Headmaster and McGonagall at the staff table.

He kept his gaze towards the front, effectively avoiding the stares from the first years, who obviously weren't used to the gigantic size of their gamekeeper. He went up directly in front of Dumbledore and cleared his throat with a raspy and low 'hem' 'hem'.

"May I ave' a word, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore turned and looked at him with a pleasant smile.

"Why certainly, Hagrid, it's always a pleasure!"

Hagrid blushed a bit from the statement, but he was dead set on getting what had been on his mind for years on the table for discussion.

"Dumbledore, yeh know it's gon' be Harry's birthday in jus' a couple o' months, an' I wuz just wondering if I cud' give the lil' tyke a visit." Rubeus Hagrid wrung his hands nervously, knowing all to well what the Headmaster's answer would be.

"Now, Hagrid, I'm not sure that's a great idea. Harry knows nothing about the magical world and I think that for now it would be in his best interest to not stir anything up." Dumbledore frowned a bit; he disliked having to crush Hagrid's spirit.

"Bu' I don' know wut to make of it! I send him his gifts in the Muggle fashion and I don' get no reply. From wut I hear of those Muggles I know thy ain't the kindest folk. Maybe they be keeping the lot from him! And Lupin's been tryin' to send him things too. Only, yeh know how he be these days, he reckons they'd told Harry bout' the incident an' that he ain't wantin' to speak with no'one bout' it. Says the lil' fella is probly better off."

"Hagrid, I understand your concerns, but Harry will be turning ten soon. That leaves only a year more you'll have to wait. If you will feel better, I'll send my own parcel along and see if the Dursleys are in fact keeping his post. If that is happening, I will kindly inform them that post addressed to someone is best left to the addressee."

"Thank yer, Dumbledore! I be feelin' lots better now." He started to make his way back out when a frantic owl almost collided with his face. He swerved around and realized it had kept going and had landed near the Headmaster.

"Ruddy hell! Tha'd be a Ministry owl!"

Dumbledore too noticed this fact and furrowed his brow trying to figure out what the Ministry wanted now. He opened it, the first thing he noticed was the Ministry seal and a stamp next to it declaring it was urgent. Silently he read:  
_  
To: Albus Dumbledore_

_Your presence is requested urgently. I was asked to contact you directly due to the nature and seriousness of the situation. We have reason to believe a lethal force has been released at the address at the bottom of this letter. We are in major need of expertise for we fear we have never seen anything quite like it. Lives may be hanging in the balance._

_The Address is as follows:  
Dursley  
Little Whinging, Surrey  
Number Four Privet Drive_

_yours sincerely,_

_Murphy Perkins_

_At the request of,_

_Arthur Weasley  
Head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office  
_

Dumbledore stood up abruptly, a magical force surging off of him as he ran into action. His face clearly displayed his anxiousness and need for urgency. He knew all too well who lived at that address: Harry Potter. _What could have happened? Was Voldemort back? Had a terrible accident occurred? Were the wards still in effect? What if they had gotten the address wrong?_  
He only hoped Harry was alright.

The letter had been a bit a scarce on details and it was apparent they had no clue that Harry Potter lived there. He sprinted across the hall, his heavy robes bellowing beneath him, pure power was radiating off the Headmaster in pulses at his heightened state.

This had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the school. The talking had seized entirely and everyone was gaping at him.

He approached the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to his chamber, and with a wave of his hand the sculpture moved aside and exposed the spiraling staircase.

He quickly made his way to his office, barely noticing McGonagall and Hagrid following him up too, as they had also read the letter and knew who exactly had his life hanging in the balance.

"Stay here! I'll keep you informed." Dumbledore raised his hand as he saw both faces were about to retort. "I can't have you two walking in blindly, and I need you to watch the school just in case."

Dumbledore reached into his robes and threw some Floo powder into the fire.

He yelled, "Arabela Fig's Residence" into the flames. Dumbledore watched his office disappear, leaving Hagrid and McGonagall with alarmed but determined faces.

Arthur Weasley crouched and waited patiently for reinforcements to arrive. He had just sent the mailbox to Perkins using his wand and the proper incantation.

He was staring at the huge mass of rubble on the street when he saw a blur of small movements. _What in the world could that be? Is that a person? _He resisted the temptation to run towards the pile and see if anyone was hurt. If the culprit was still inside, they could definitely see him and possibly attack._ What if this was the act of many people?_

Then Arthur heard the unmistakable cry of a child coming from the house. _Oh, no! A child could be hurt in there!_ Arthur silently weighed the chances and possible repercussions. He couldn't bear to leave a child in harm's way if he could help it.

He got up on shaky legs, his wand erect in front of him. He closed his eyes and shuddered out a breath. A myriad of mental images flooded his mind. Happy memories of spending time with his family:  
_  
A family picnic that occurred four years ago..._

_The faces of his children; Charlie, Bill, Fred, George, Percy Ron, Ginny._

_He remembered the day like it was yesterday; mostly because he often enjoyed reminiscing upon it. They had been together; purely happy. He had loved every minute of it: Molly giving him seductive glances only he would ever recognize, the way the love of his life looked that day as the sun bathed her beauty so thoroughly, she had looked like an angel. They had paired off: the twins, Charlie and Ron, Bill and Percy, four-year-old Ginny with Molly and him._

_Together they had played chase the whole day inside the perimeter of the Burrow. Everyone had gotten a good laugh when Ginny had done most of the work to find them. She just seemed to know them all completely; just knowing where each of her brothers would choose fit to hide by their personalities._

_The twins' booty traps were received with humor. Even Percy had a laugh when the twins had set a trap for him; one that consisted of a book and a rope, that left Percy suspended by his feet. Percy had burst into laughter when he realized that the trap's activation included having the book to be rigged to allow him to read while suspended. Fred and George had told them they would have hated for him to get bored on such a fine day.  
Ron and Charlie had also been the most elusive; Arthur has suspected that Ron's capable planning had kept them just one step ahead of Ginny. They had stayed out all day, and at nightfall they had roasted marshmallows on a slow burning campfire, describing images they could see in the stars._

_Then, Christmas at the Burrow..._

_Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George tugging at their sheets before the sun was even up with gleeful expressions and tousled hair. The infamous Weasley Jumper that announced they were indeed part of the proud clan. Molly and her delightful feast, their terrible recital of the Christmas songs which left them breathless with mirth._

_Letting go..._

_How proud he had felt when most of his children in turn had been accepted to Hogwarts.  
Saying goodbye to them at the platform with a hug and his annual rehearsal of " Keep your head in your books, and your feet just ahead of trouble." They always smiled at him and sometimes joined him in chorus. They knew it was his way of telling them he loved them without completely embarrassing them in public._

_His life..._

_He loved every minute of it: the great family he had, and the priceless moments he cherished._

_His job..._

_He enjoyed the feeling he would get when he encountered a new mysterious Muggle artifact. The enlightenment of learning something new was worth way more galleons than any one could ever offer him. He just loved the great feeling of protecting an unsuspecting Muggle.  
_  
In horror, he imagined how his family would get on without him. He shook his head and paused when he realized he couldn't forsake a child for even the natural selfish impulse to be there for your family.

He rounded the corner of a crumbling wall, making a silent wish that his oldest sons would unite to care for the little ones.

His memories consumed him again as he thought of his oldest: Bill and Charlie.  
_  
He was prouder than he could have ever wished to be. They were natural geniuses, and they bore the Weasley temper and humor. Even though Molly was more than a bit hesitant to let them pick up such dangerous careers, he knew it was the right thing to let them be themselves and live their lives. Each of their partings had been wet occasions. They never forgot their roots and partook in all the holidays with them. No matter where they were, at least once a year they would have a good long stay at the Burrow. _

He kissed the chain Molly had gotten him of a Golden Phoenix on their first anniversary.  
_  
She had told him that he rescued her by loving her so completely. His love, like the Phoenix Song, had helped her get through the death of her beloved brothers. It had been such a huge blow to her. At the time, she had sunk into such a deep depression. He had almost lost hope of ever consoling her._

_He had never given up and had sometimes sat with her for hours, not saying a word, as she fought sleep away from a cruel nightmare. They were each others strength because they knew they would soar together and stay true to each other._

_They made the perfect balance: Molly was strict but she did it with all her love, sometimes she was overprotective but she just wanted what was best for her only remaining family; he on the other hand, was a happy -go-lucky type of guy, he kept his temper at bay, held intense loyalties, but when it came time to defend his family he would immediately shed the name 'pushover'.  
_  
He dropped the necklace and tucked it back under his collar. _"Merlin, give me strength!" _He stepped just past the wall and pointed his wand wildly in every direction, stepping on shattered glass as he walked. Crunching noises sounded obnoxiously through the crumbled house.

There were only three walls still standing, many of them scorched and containing large holes. Electrical wires lay loose, some emitting large sparks. Wallpaper hung flapping on the walls as if an imaginary wind was making them sway. Only fragments of the ceiling remained.

"Is anyone here?!"

No one answered. He looked to the wall next to him and noticed that a man rested against it, his eyes closed. Arthur checked the rather large man's pulse- -he was alive. Arthur looked down at his fingers and wiped them on a fragment of destroyed couch that was on the floor. The man was bleeding slightly from his head. He had likely thrown against the wall during the explosion. Arthur decided he would take care of the man later.

Arthur stopped moving and listened for the sound of a child sobbing. His eyes focused on where the sobbing was originating from, that's when he saw the light that was illuminating the whole room was coming from behind a large overturned Mahogany table that was covering a corner. He cautiously approached the table, hearing sniffling accompanied by large gasps for air.

He stepped over a golden chain, and almost collapsed backwards when he saw what was covering it. _What could that have been used for?! Is this some kind of sick joke? _He was now only two meters from the table. His eyes fell again on the alleged weapon that seemed to have been used as the tool of some type of torture. It was grotesquely covered in clumps of raw flesh. He briskly closed the distance, wand raised a little higher and a spell ready to burst from his lips.

What he saw as he rounded the table was horrifying. He saw a child sprawled on the floor. As Arthur attempted to draw closer, the child drew his knees to his chest, and backed up against the wall with green striking eyes framed in perplexity. His body was drenched crimson with his own blood; his flesh was displayed in repulsive patches of bloody mass. The boy was also covered in a soft green light that seemed to be caressing him as his chest was heaving convulsively.

"Hello little guy, my name is Arthur Weasley. I'm here to take you to safety. Don't be afraid, you're safe now. I'm here to help you." Arthur steeled himself to not show the anger and unbelievable sadness that threatened to overtake him at the sight of what had been done to the boy.

The boy (who couldn't have been more than ten) looked up frightfully and backed himself against the wall even more in fear.

Arthur looked at the boy: his face was bruised and bloody but not as disfigured as the rest of his skin, and his arms and legs were a sorry sight. And he would bet money the kid's back was really bad.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you. I came here to help. What's your name?" Arthur asked in a gentle voice.

The kid seemed to calm down a bit but was still struggling for breath. He miraculously managed to stand up and lean against the wall.

"My name…is…Harry."

He gave the boy a forced encouraging smile. "Hi, Harry. He briefly remembered the names on the mailbox. "Is your last name Dursley?"

Harry cringed and wildly shook his head.

"What happened here?" Arthur was a bit hesitant to ask questions; especially when the only thing he wanted to do was haul the kid to St. Mungos as soon as possible. But he had to be rational; his experience had taught him to be cautious because not everything was as it appeared to be. What if he was dragging a deranged killer who had taken Polyjuice potion into a populated area?

Harry pointed to a small frame that lay next to his feet.

Arthur picked it up and saw it was a photograph of a Muggle family. The man he had just encountered near where he had entered was at the right of the frame, a horsey woman, at the left, had her bony arms draped over a massive boy who was smiling. He guessed the blur he had seen on the road earlier could have been the rest of these people. "These are the Dursleys that live here?"

At this, Harry just nodded his head.

"I…he's…my uncle…he was mad and he…started to…hit me…I thought he would stop…but he wouldn't. It hurt so much…and then he was going to hit me," he pointed to his head and blood matted hair, "I felt something happen…inside…me…I…the house just exploded. I…didn't mean to…do it…honest!" Harry was saying everything as hurriedly as possible; looking absolutely desperate for the stranger to understand.

"Harry, it's okay. I just called for help." Arthur's brain was having trouble making out the words that the boy had just voiced to him. He felt like a Code breaker working on a time sensitive project.

"What is this…around me? ... I-I don't know where…it came from."

Arthur took a step forward and told him, "Harry, I'll explain later, as soon as we have gotten you some help. If no one comes in the next minute, I am going to need to take you with me. No worrying about it, okay?"

Arthur looked around for his back-up; this boy needed immediate medical attention and he was growing very impatient and struggling even harder to keep his emotions in tack. But he couldn't leave without the rest of them not knowing about the Muggles, or where he had vanished to. He could lose his job if he abandoned his position so abruptly and left a Muggle area without some one there to clean up the mess.

"So, I'm not a…demon or…a freak. I-I…heard the Headmistress talk…to the D-Dursleys about it…Are you going…to arrest me?"

"No, Harry, you are not in any trouble." Arthur was getting even more worried now as Harry's labored breathing intensified, and for the first time in his life, Arthur wished he could do healing charms.

Then Harry made a worried face and looked down on the ground as if ashamed of something. "Are…the….Dursleys…..alive?"

Arthur was taken aback by the question. The child seemed to be afraid he had hurt them. "Harry, did they do this to you!" Something in Arthur's brain just clicked, he finally caught up with the kid's words and comprehended what he had been told earlier. A flash of anger engulfed his face.

Harry merely nodded his small head and his eyes seemed to glaze over as he stumbled back to the ground. The flames surrounding his body seemed to levitate him slowly and safely back to the ground.

Angrily, Arthur almost turned around to murder the Muggles behind him, unfortunately, quickly approaching steps distracted him.

"Arthur!" Arthur could hardly believe Dumbledore's appearance; the look on the Headmaster's face contorted in a rage when he saw little Harry.

Then Dumbledore approached the boy slowly with his mouth wide, arms stretched, as if hardly believing what had been done to the boy. When he realized Harry was cowering in the corner, he relaxed his features and took to talking smoothly to the boy.

Harry looked in a daze at the approaching figure, his vision blurring and his lungs screaming for air. The warmth around his body was fading and he could feel the cold grip of death clutching itself to his body.

"Harry Potter?" Dumbledore hardly managed the words as he approached him.

Harry nodded his head and the room gasped. Harry felt uncomfortable at all the eyes on him, but he made the mistake of glancing down at himself and he almost threw up.

"What did he tell you, Arthur?" Dumbledore took Arthur by the shoulders forcefully, his panic stricken light-blue-eyes bulging from his sockets in an uncharacteristic kind of way.

Arthur looked at him, forcing the notes of what he had to say through his raspy throat. "Harry somehow did this to the house. His Uncle was beating him with that metal chain to an inch from death and his body reacted. He doesn't seem to understand what he's done. I am sure it was unintentional."

Dumbledore eyes flashed fiercely to the fallen man by the door, and his hand unconsciously moved towards his wand. The power radiating off the Headmaster increased. "HIS UNCLE DID THIS?!" Fury etched every line on the Headmaster's face.

The room stepped back from the Headmaster and they watched as Dumbledore closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and fought with mad resolutions.

They heard a groan escape from the corner. It had come from Harry.

Dumbledore steeled himself, winning the battle against his most desperate desire. He barked off orders: "Arthur, I'll take him to St. Mungos, try to tell as little people as possible. Tell the Aurors to take the Muggles in the house and put them in a locked ward at the hospital as well. The room is to be kept under surveillance. No one, and I repeat-- no one is to enter. There is a mother and child on the street, and the elephant of a man above there leaning against the wall. It doesn't appear as if they have serious injuries. Clean up the area and make absolutely sure there is no leak of this to anyone. Now, I must hurry."

Arthur nodded his head. His features breaking before he masked them as he looked at Harry again. "Bye, Harry. I promise to visit you when I can. I have kids your age that would be delighted to keep you company too. Don't worry, I will protect you." He gave Harry a small smile and reluctantly stepped away.

Perkins approached him. "Arthur you're shaken, you should go home. I'll take care of everything here. Just get some rest and see your family, you need them now." He put a comforting hand on his shoulder and waited until the red-head met his eyes. Arthur gave him a barely noticeable nod and stepped away from the ruins and towards the back of the house, where he wouldn't be seen when he Apparated.

Arthur flung open the fence and stopped, staring at nothing. With his eyes were clear with anguish, he Apparated straight home; needing them desperately. The sight he had just seen had made him feel very ill. It had taken all his self-control to contain his emotions in check and not beat the fallen Muggles to death.

The kind man named Arthur Weasley left and Harry wanted so badly to trust that he would keep his promises. But life with the Dursleys had assured him that no one was to be trusted. He would not get his hopes up.

Harry wondered what it would be like to die. Would he be relieved? How would it feel to be released from the confines of Privet Drive? He would get to meet his parents again if he did. It wouldn't be bad at all...a relief maybe.

But something kept thrashing about within him. It was forcing him to continue. He had to fight, and besides his best effort, he believed what Mr. Weasley had told him. He could be saved. What would it feel like to be part of family or to be loved? What did love even mean?

Dumbledore looked at Harry and greeted him, trying to keep his shaking out of his speech. "Hello, Harry. My name is Dumbledore. I'm here to help you, but you need to take my hand."

Harry somehow felt a comfort rush over him by just looking at the elder man in front of him. His presence seemed to radiate power; however, somehow--he wasn't threatening at all.

He reminded him of what he imagined having a grandfather would actually feel like. Some kind figure that was so full of wisdom you couldn't help but look up to and follow. And the man's cool blue eyes looked as if they really cared for him. Was this really real? _No, no one could ever care for me...I am just Harry. _

He cringed as a particular angry throb of pain consumed his body. Dumbledore pleaded for his hand and trust again silently, his hand outstretched in eagerness. Dumbledore reached for Harry's hand in a more deliberate attempt, but the flames kept him at bay.

Harry noticed this and as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, Dumbledore's hand was shot at with a protective ball of green flames. The flames engulfed his hand, and Dumbledore seemed taken a back for a moment but it did not harm him.

Instead, he thought of the lobby of St. Mungos and Apparated both of them away. When they landed, Dumbledore's face changed to panic as he saw the flames around Harry were starting to fade. "WE NEED IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION! THIS CHILD IS GOING TO DIE IF HE DOESN'T GET HELP RIGHT NOW!"

Harry stumbled into Dumbledore, his body visibly weakening. The Headmaster picked him up and cradled him to his chest as Harry let yelps and whimpers escape his compressed mouth, he was intent on not screaming if he could help it. He shut his eyes, focusing on bearing the pain.

Harry's body felt icy cold to the touch as several healers were jogging to them. Dumbledore conjured a stretcher as they approached. Harry's wounds began to bleed freely and his mouth spurted afresh with blood.

"My name is Healer Gantry. This is my team and we're going to need to ask you several questions. You should stay with us."

Healer Gantry yelled "LOCOMOTION STRETCHER!" with his wand and the group jogged alongside the stretcher and towards the first empty emergency room.

Harry was crying out in pain, probably losing all awareness of where he was. The light around him had disappeared from around him completely.

Dumbledore had never looked older and worse for wear as he did with his bloody robes and weary expression.

The team set to work. Some healers were pouring and measuring potions with glass flasks and beakers, pouring some into Harry's mouth and holding him as he thrashed around. Others were waving their wands in rapid movements over the less intimidating gashes on his body while two healers cast a spell that showed an image of his internal organs. Several ribs were broken in the image; one of the ribs had snapped so completely it had punctured his lung. They chanted for several minutes, waving their wands in circular movements as the bones crept into place slowly and mended. They conjured a bucket and picked up Harry's head, as one of them pointed their wands to Harry's throat and initiated his gag reflex. The fluid in his lungs filled the bucket instantly; most of it wine red.

Harry opened his eyes a bit and stared as his rescuers continued to work. He was whimpering slightly but was holding off most of the pain bravely; not allowing it to show on his features.

Healer Gantry was shouting out orders and he turned to Dumbledore. He finally realized who he was and was entirely surprised. His face crunched in confusion wondering what he was doing with a child, but he had a job to do and he caught the Hogwarts School Headmaster's eyes as they lifted from the boy. "What's his name? What happened to him? Where are his parents?"

Dumbledore looked up at him and cleared his throat. "His name is Harry. His last name will surely give you an answer as to where his parents are. His full name is Harry Potter."

The entire room paused for an instant before they regained their bearing and continued with their frantic work. Healer Gantry lifted the boy's fringe off his head and looked at the scar, as if having to confirm the Headmaster was not lying.

He blanched and gaped as Harry continued his struggle, his eyes closed in focus. "W-What--happened t-to…him?" he stuttered.

"He was beaten by his guardian with a chain. These are all non-magical injuries... What will become of him? You can fix all of this, correct?" Dumbledore's voice was dreary and he had yet to recover from his initial shock of seeing the boy, which was under his charge to protect, so hurt. He was ashamed for the first time in his life; his greatest mistake had occurred during his most crucial task. He could never forgive himself and he was desperate for a way to correct this most dreadful wrong. Just hearing Harry's cries was heart crushing and he was having trouble keeping himself erect, let alone to try to correct his usually composed exterior.

"I'm sorry... We can't be sure of anything right now." The Healer looked like he was trying to collect himself enough to face the headmaster as he was about to say his next statement. "We need to treat his deeper wounds with a potion. The problem is that the potion must first destroy the remaining flesh and embedded foreign materials and filth, before it starts to create new tissue, muscle, and skin. It's entirely experimental... You see, Harry is way too young to be put to sleep with the sleeping potion made strong enough for this. If we were to administer it, he would likely never wake up...And normal Sleeping Draught reacts poorly with this new potion. The Whiterurn seeds don't mix well with Saiter eggs. "

"What does that mean?!" Dumbledore was growing impatient with the explanation. "Can you or can you not do something for him?!"

"Well we…w-we can proceed and hope nature takes its course."

"You mean, until he passes out from the excruciating pain!" Dumbledore was horrified at the thought.

Healer Gantry cringed. "I'm really sorry Dumbledore, sir. That's all we can do. If we were to just leave the lacerations as they are and bandage him up...he would likely die from infection or loss of blood. This must be done, it's his only chance. We can only hope the procedure works on him, and that he is strong enough to endure it. The process should take two days. Then we will put him to sleep for the good part of a week to ensure his body doesn't go into shock and reject the new skin. The result of that could be catastrophic."

Dumbledore leaned against the bed and put two fingers to the bridge of his nose in thought. "Lets commence then."

Healer Gantry nodded and let out a deep breath, he walked over to his team of Healers and gave them each another order.

Dumbledore shook the whimpering Harry. He responded by opening his emerald eyes and looking up at him.

"Harry, the Healers are trying to help you, unfortunately, to do that they must pour a very strong poti- liquid all over you. The liquid will burn and hurt but in the end it will make you a lot better. Now it's going to be very painful so I want you to be prepared for that, okay?"

Harry answered Dumbledore with trusting eyes and nodded his head in a weak 'okay'.

The team had prepared several phials of the said potion and the liquid was bubbling inside. It was a brown color that smelled of rust.

Dumbledore grasped Harry's hand, looking into the boy's eyes.  
"Be strong, Harry. Just focus on my eyes and squeeze my hand, okay?" Harry's striking eyes fell upon his and Dumbledore was shocked to see such bravery there.

The first phial was uncorked and poured on his bare chest. The wounds bubbled and Harry clenched his jaw. Dumbledore felt his hand being squeezed with strength as Harry was sniffing and his chest expanded wildly for air.

The phials were poured all over him and Harry was turned to his side, where they poured the rest of the potion on the remainder of his body. Apparently, the first stage of the potion was slightly bearable. But then all the wounds began to bubble fiercely and emit loud hisses.

The pain turned to excruciating in an instant and Dumbledore felt his hand being squeezed with surprising force. Harry's expression altered and he used all his control to keep his face clenched tightly and to not cry out.

His willpower gave out in spite of himself and tears gushed from his eyes as he kept his promise to look at Dumbledore. His body trembled with renewed vigor. His body's pain sensors responded for him, and he began to scream and thrash about as the healers tried to hold him in place; all their expressions pained and sullen.

Dumbledore kept his lips firmly pressed as his heart thumped madly in his chest.

His screams were so loud that the Headmaster estimated they breached the silent charms that he had placed on the room when they had entered. It being his charm said quite a lot.

For minutes that seemed like hours, Harry continued his screams of agony that raked through him. He was sweating profusely and his throat was becoming hoarse, while involuntary muscle spasms flexed his body and features.

Finally, exhausted, Harry fell back into the bed in a comatose state. The pain had become too much for his body to bear awake. He continued to shake and incoherently mumble under his gasping huffs of air, but he was no longer screaming.

Dumbledore let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Is this it for now?"

Healer Gantry looked at him with a tired expression. "Yes, the worse is over. The potion will now start to rebuild his body's lost tissues. We will administer some Sleeping Draught and hope he passes the rest of his recuperation in a pleasant dream world. We will move him in a couple minutes to a recovery ward right after we bandage him up. We'll make sure he is placed in one alone and keep his name confidential."

Dumbledore nodded in approval.

They both looked at the sleeping boy.

"Never in my life have I ever seen such an infliction on such a young child. It would take all my willpower not to hex the bastard who did this! "

He looked fondly at the boy. "He truly is the Boy-Who-Lived. I have seen kids with only a broken bone cry out louder. Considering the extent of his injuries, not only should he have been dead by the time he arrived, but an experienced Auror would of had less self-control than he did. He truly fought off death itself today. I don't know if you realize how close to death Harry was, but everything in my training says this child shouldn't have even survived the first few blows."

Dumbledore stared at Harry with renewed astonishment.

"He will need to sleep and recuperate for a week, so it's safe if you leave. I'll contact you if there are any changes."

"I need to update a few people of this and take care of the matter." Dumbledore took the healer's hand and shook it. "Thank you, Healer Gantry...or should I say Phillip from Ravenclaw House."

Gantry smiled in surprise. "You remember me! Goodness, that was sixteen years ago!"

Dumbledore allowed himself a dry chuckle. "I remember all of my brilliant students. I knew you'd do something great."

With that, Dumbledore glanced at Harry with sorrow, and made his leave.

Arthur Apparated to the padlock and slowly walked up to the side door of the burrow.

It was still late afternoon; the sun was fading into the horizon. He put a hand on the doorknob and turned it to see his wife rushing towards him. The clock had warned her that he was home. She had obviously been cooking dinner because a knife was still chopping away at vegetables on the counter.

He gave her a peck on the cheek, his eyes lifeless, and his skin clammy.

Ginny ran towards him, leaving crayons and a coloring book on the floor. She hugged his legs and Arthur looked at her lovingly.

Molly had felt how stiff his body was and gave him a questioning look as she pulled back from the embrace. She knew him all too well. Luckily, she didn't want to bring it up in front of the children so his mask of control survived just a while longer.

He picked Ginny up and kissed her head as he breathed in her hair. A couple of tears blinked from his eyes and he hastily wiped them away.

Ron was playing a game of chess with his charmed chess board. The board made moves alone as Ron's opponent. It had been his Christmas gift. He looked on to the game oblivious to what was happening around him. Arthur approached him and lifted him off his chair and into a bear hug.

Ron looked at him in surprise. Ginny had held onto his robes and Arthur realized she was wiping tears from her eyes. Ginny had a knack for sensing other people's emotions.

He scooped both of his children up as he crouched on the floor and told them, "I love you both, okay? I hope you understand that every day no matter what." His voice broke and his eyes were glazed with a sheen of tears.

Both of them nodded. "We love you too daddy" they said in chorus. They wore worried expression for their dad, but Arthur just stood and ruffled their hair. He had to get out of their before the dam broke.

Arthur made his way to the door and retreated to his shed. He picked up a radio and started to take it apart as he had done so many times before, but his mind wasn't in it at all.

After stopping the cooking charms and telling the children to go upstairs and stay out of trouble, Molly made her way to the shed. There were several times Arthur went to the shed when he was angry and needed to be alone. This, however, wasn't one of those times- - Arthur needed her.

Arthur heard his wife approach. He thought back to the scene of the body of Harry Potter in such a horrid state. He was furious anyone could do that to a child. Their assumptions of Harry's life had been terribly wrong. Perhaps if he had passed by the house earlier and heard the yells of the boy, he could have intervened before it had gotten too far. _What if little Harry had died at St. Mungos? _

He grabbed the radio he had been pretending to fix and flung it at the wall. It broke and fell apart on impact. His face was caked in fury. He grabbed things randomly, flinging a baseball, a wrench, television set, and lamp.

He felt gentle caresses to his back and he turned to see Molly looking at him in alarm.

Arthur's mask crumbled again, he rushed outside and vomited on a patch of grass, stumbling and falling to his knees. Molly embraced his back and clung to him after she had vanished the mess he had made on the grass.

He turned and gathered her in his arms greedily. He sobbed into her shoulder for the boy and his uncertain fate. It had been too much to look at the kid and just see someone so young in misery. Because of his age, he couldn't help but imagine it being Ron hurt in front of him. It was appalling someone could be so cruel to a child.

After several minutes, Arthur lifted his head and put his forehead to Molly's; drawing strength from her. Without thinking about it, he began to tell her about the boy, and how he had felt in a low whisper.

When he finished with his tale of the day, Molly shook her head and told him it was impossible something like that could happen to a child. She could scarcely imagine it happening to Harry Potter. When Arthur kissed her and assured that it was true, she burst into tears.

After the sun had gone down, and the moon had claimed the sky, Molly and Arthur had made their way back to the house. With sunken spirits, they vowed to visit Harry if he survived, agreeing that it would surely be a tragedy if he died at such an age.

_**A/N: So? What did ya think? Please review!**_


	5. Raging Fires

_**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K, only OC's and back plot mine. tear**_

_**A/N: Please read and review! This is my first fanfic so anything would be appreciated.**_

**Raging Fires**

Dumbledore made his way to an Apparation point. He avoided the curious stares, and appeared in the driveway of Privet Drive. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad was putting the final touches to repairing the house. As usual, they worked fast.

Murphy Perkins made his way to him. "Dumbledore, how is he?"

"He will survive." Dumbledore told him in a sullen tone.

Perkins gave him an understanding look. "We're almost done here. We sent the Muggles to room twenty-nine at St. Mungos. We went against procedure by not having them obliviated, but seeing from the abuse they have inflicted on Harry Potter, we made an exception. We have taken care of the memories of all the neighbors who could have seen something. We also learned that the attack on Harry was brought on by the fact that he had just gotten he and his cousin expelled from school."

"Really?" Dumbledore was curious.

"Yep, we managed to get witness accounts of what occurred today. Harry's cousin is the bullying brute of the school. He warned any student from so much as speaking to Harry. So, the boy mostly kept to himself and played in a corner of the playground secluded."

"Some kids even admired the child because he would often stand up for some of them when they were being bullied; never ask for anything in return. Many thought he was a decent enough bloke. The teachers even said he got top marks in all his classes, and he would get upset when he got his report card for unknown reasons; although, I have my suspicions about them bloody Muggles."

Well, today," he continued, "Harry was playing and he was attacked with rocks. When this happened, he got aggravated and the trees burst into flames. Harry ran for help and was stopped by his cousin's gang who ambushed him. He attempted to make a run for it, but was cornered. They jumped him again and took a snake Harry had grown fond of and murdered it 'just for fun'. According to the accounts, something invisible threw his taunters back and Harry beat up two of his attackers including his cousin. After some 'nudges', the Headmistress admitted that she had found the bullies hung in the air 'magically'. And she said that Harry had somehow just appeared on the roof."

"And Mafalda Hopkirk didn't report the accidental magic?" Dumbledore inquired with disbelief.

"Arthur and I overheard a conversation about that just this morning before arriving here," he explained. "She was telling a friend that the sensors had been acting up and not registering decent reads all morning; something about insufficient funding."

Dumbledore ran his hand through his long silver hair and sighed while the crew finished repairing the house.

"Tell Arthur that Harry is stable, and that he can see him by the end of the week." Dumbledore looked at the house in disgust. "I'll ask you, since you are acquainted with Muggle affairs, that you get ready to prosecute and press charges on Vernon Dursley. I will finish up here and retrieve Harry's things."

"Absolutely, you have my word on that matter." Perkins followed suit of the crew and Apparated away.

Dumbledore ceased to be amazed by Harry Potter. He had enough magic to crumble an entire house in mere seconds, enough strength to endure torture, and compassion enough protect children too frightened to speak to him.

Dumbledore looked at the house, remembering how eight years ago he had thought Harry would be safe here. He had been so glad he could use the blood magic to form a blood protection spell; but he had made it to repel enemies beyond its walls, when he had never considered real danger from the foes within. Dumbledore felt sick to his stomach; he could practically feel the sharp edge of the guilt nudging at him.

To be frank, Harry had been better off at the Dursleys during the shaky days of Voldemort's downfall; however, now it would be a pathetic excuse to detain Harry here. At the present, more harm would come to Harry at this residence, than he would suffer outside of it. Harry was old enough to not get big head over the attention he was bound to receive upon his return to Magical Society. If anything, Dumbledore feared leaving him here would make Harry bitter, resentful, and spiteful.

He walked towards the newly restored, yet still dull, house. Everything had been repaired. The entire neighborhood was the very image of conformity and snootiness. The houses were replicas of each other; each painted in a traditional hue with rows identical lawns. It spoke volumes of the place's monotony.

He opened the door, making his way inside. Now he just had to find Harry's room.

He walked to his left, into a small dinning room. Beyond it was a sterilized kitchen. Everything about the house screamed unfriendly and uptight. It all seemed so stiff.

He exited back to the sitting room and into a bedroom a little before the loo. He doubted this was it; not only was it a toy room, but it had the words 'Dudley' painted on the wall in pastels. He made his way upstairs and into a room to his right. This was a boy's room.

A plaque on the door, however, indicated it belong to Dudley. The room in the center of the hallway was the master bedroom and Dumbledore didn't even bother with that one. Then there was a final room that he was sure had to be Harry's.

He saw this one was a study.

_My goodness! Where did they keep him? _

His heart sunk as he made his way down the stairs, to the one place he hadn't looked.

He approached the cupboard under the stairs with dread. He didn't know if he could take another guilt blow for the night. He picked up a padlock that lay next to the tiny door. Bile threatened to come up his throat as his eyes fell upon the cat flap under the door. The fact that Harry was probably locked up often, and that he had been beaten with the same chain that had once barred the door, was sickening. He willed himself to go inside.

_Nothing_...

The boy owned nothing. There was nothing even worth taking. His clothes looked like shredded tatters once worn by a whale, a minuscule and insufficient bed was put up against the wall, and broken toys, he was sure had been used before they were given to the child, were strewn across the floor.

Dumbledore had to crouch and crawl about the tiny room. Plus, the air was stuffy and dirty. A layer of dust had settled on all the surfaces, indicating this was the only room the Dursleys took no care to keep clean.

Dumbledore leaned his back against the bed. He saw several drawings in crayons on the wall. Just below the shelf, was picture of a birthday cake; one candle had been drawn for each of Harry's years. Presents were drawn next to it: a teddy bear, a truck, action figure, and a bike.

On the floor, on the wall adjacent to it, were stick figures of a family. Three figures were drawn: one tall with a striped tie was labeled 'dad', a figure on the left with a skirt was named 'mum', and the one in the middle was 'Harry'. The figures wore large smiling faces and were holding hands. There were several other celebratory drawings for holidays. Even praises and words Dumbledore thought that Harry hoped to hear someday. _'Happy Birthday'_, _'Happy Christmas'_, '_Well Done, Harry'_, and—Dumbledore sighed miserably—'_I love you'_. The last one was crossed out and the word _**'Freak' **_had been written over it in bold, ugly letters. It caused him to wonder, in horror, who had written it there. Either possible case was awful. The dingy room depressed Dumbledore greatly, his face falling into his hands in anguish.

_He was supposed to be Albus Dumbledore; he was supposed to protect him. Dumbledore felt gentle tears cascading down his cheeks. How could he? How would Harry forgive him when he could never forgive himself? What would happen to Harry? Where would he live now? He certainly would never take him to an orphanage; he had to find someplace safe, quick! _

He willed his composure to come back to him and Dumbledore crawled out of the hole to make his way back upstairs. He went inside the master bedroom and felt for what he was looking for. _Surely she hadn't been cruel enough to just discard it. _He felt for the familiar magic residue of his own spells. Yes, he could feel it now. He strode to the closet and reached for a box covered by several other plastic cases, lifting it out and opening the box on the bed. Inside was what he was looking for.

He picked it up and walked back to Arabela Figg's house. He had to be back at Hogwarts in time for the Halloween feast. The school would miss him and wonder where he had gone, he could not risk raising questions, and he had a promise to keep.

He knocked on the door gently. Arabela Figg stuck her head out and gave him a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Dumbledore."

"Arabela, I know you have been privy to certain activities in the neighborhood and I wonder if you could testify at a hearing for Harry Potter."

"Goodness! I will do whatever you ask of me, Dumbledore. Is he alright?" She moved to pick up a cat and gave him a questioning look.

"I know you have kept me posted of Harry's mistreatment. It seems today, it wasn't just verbal, and they may have seriously harmed him. He is alright now but I will appreciate any witnesses I can get. Thank you for agreeing so heartily. Now if you excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to."

"Of course! I'm glad to be of help." She gave him a bag of Floo powder and watched Dumbledore disappear in the flames.

Dumbledore stepped into his office; feeling older then he had felt in years.

Hagrid and McGonagall stood up from the chairs they had been waiting for him in. They had stopped their conversation--or rather McGonagall trying to calm Hagrid-- stopped and stood up. She went to him expectantly, looking into the irises of his eyes as if trying to find a secret. Hagrid stared off to the floor, hoping the news would be good.

Dumbledore spoke first. "He is alright."

"Oh' thank Merlin." Hagrid sat back into the chair, sighing in relief.

McGonagall relaxed a bit, though her expression was still tense. "What happened, Albus?"

Dumbledore flung himself into the armchair behind his desk. He told them what had happened, sparing them of the severity of Harry's lacerations. He also shared his plans to press charges.

Hagrid was beyond angry at hearing of the abuse. He stood up and walked to the fire, making to grab the bag of Floo powder but he was stopped by a firm hand that had clamped itself at his forearm.

"Hagrid, be rational." McGonagall looked at him sternly.

Hagrid grabbed the bag, tossing her hand aside. "They harmd' Harry Potter!!!! You wan' rational, rational ould' be to throw his ruddy ass in a bloody troll camp, tha' woul'."

It was Dumbledore who spoke now, "I understand what you're feeling, Hagrid, I too had that problem. However, if we allow ourselves to give in to our first impulse, then we are no better than they are."

"I-I…but, Headmaster!" Hagrid tossed the bag down in a temper. He glared at them. "When can I see him?"

"You can see Harry next week." Dumbledore combed his fingers through his large beard.

"I will attend the Halloween feast. Am I to understand that you want to keep the information on Harry Potter confidential?" McGonagall asked, more for confirmation than she did for an answer.

"Yes, Minerva, that would be for the best. I will join you after I do a few things. I doubt my absence would go unnoticed."

"That would do." McGonagall walked out of the room, ascending the spiral staircase.

Hagrid huffed, he looked as if he was about to say something but he refrained and simply stomped out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Dumbledore was left alone. Rubbing his tired eyes, he picked up a delicate silver instrument on his desk and tapped it with his wand, saying a spell in his head. The trinket spurted and made several 'ding' sounds in an intricate pattern. The blood magic was completely gone. Harry would no longer be protected if he returned to Little Whinging. Dumbledore had pondered about that particular work of magic.

When he had found Harry at Godric's Hollow, he had been convinced that his mother's love had kept Harry safe. Her death was the ultimate sacrifice; however, love used in that way hadn't been seen in centuries. If it were as simple as just shielding your child of a curse, then Voldemort would have been long gone. Mothers were often found lying on top of the corpses of their lost children after Voldemort had raided their homes. The magic was usually beyond the reach of even the most advanced wizards; its power almost impossible to harness.

He had always thought that there was something he had been missing. It was possible Harry was more powerful than any one could ever imagine. The sensors at the Ministry could have been hoodwinked by the sheer power of Harry's magic. He also seemed to have self-preservation instincts; it was as if his magic worked to protect him even without conscious thought.

As a baby, Harry could have activated the blood magic with his mother's ultimate sacrifice. Using his love for her, to save himself; to make her last wish for his survival come true. There was more than what met the eye with Harry Potter. Yes, he would have to watch him grow closely. No doubt Harry was going to be powerful; but, with his treatment in the past year, he wouldn't rule out Harry being bitter or dangerous. Harry's behavior today had worked to disprove that, but he could never be too sure. He would really have to keep a close watch.

Extricating himself from his chair, he moved towards what looked like a large cabinet and opened it to reveal his Pensieve. He drew strands of memories of the day and put them inside. As he finished, Fawkes landed on his perch and peered over at him. Dumbledore gave him a small smile and walked over to him. "Evening, my good friend." He petted the Phoenix's head, and the creature began trill a comforting song. Dumbledore chuckled. "You always bring up my spirits, faithful friend"

He made his way to a blank wall on the far right of his office. He passed many 'sleeping' portraits of the past headmasters, and stared at the wall. "Truffles," he said to the wall, and the wall blurred as if it was a mirage and transformed into a beautiful ivory door with a golden handle.

He entered his quarters, looking around at the familiar surroundings. His quarters consisted of three very large and magically expanded rooms. The ceiling rivaled the Great Hall, and warmness illuminated the room from the walk-in fireplace. Even Hagrid could walk in without having to bend over. No one even knew the place existed. It had been made so that the headmaster could seek refuge and let his stress wash away.

The sitting room had very comfortable brown leather couches with fur carpeting. His bedroom was the size of the entire area of a small house; a four poster bed was centered in the middle of a marble floor and decorated with gold and expensive ruby. The bed sheets were made out of fine silk and Egyptian cotton and were bigger in proportion to a King Size. There was a window that allowed spectacular views of the Hogwart's grounds. To the right was his enormous closet, holding his apparel and rare treasures.

Then there was the bathroom. The bathroom was elegant and more than spacious. There was a bathtub that looked more like a great pool or oasis, it had golden taps, and crystal sculptures of the four mascots that represented Hogwart's four houses. Each sculpture let out something different to the bath: flower petals, bubbles, scented oils, or any type of skin healing potions. In the back, behind the bathtub, was a golden sink with all the necessary supplies he would need and a large oval mirror. Only his more trusted Houselves were allowed to restock his bedroom. The loo was in the left corner with a stall-like appearance. Only it looked like the whole thing was constructed of pearl and lined in diamonds.

Dumbledore washed his hands in the sink, took off his spectacles, and removed the small maroon tie he had used that morning to tie his long beard. He flung his beard over his shoulder and splashed his face with cool water, enjoying the sensation as the water trickled down his lashes. He washed any exposed flesh of Harry's blood with a sorrowful expression and entered his bedroom, going into the closet and picking out black robes with shinny orange metallic strings embedded into lush velvet. He wanted to spread as much cheer as possible. He dressed and put on a small wizard's hat, making his way to a mirror. He pointed his wand to his hair. "Pilosus Redintegro" he said as he waved his wand around his face. His hair fixed itself; his beard tied with a black tie, his hair brushed-looking and hanging down his back. He conjured some Perk-Up Potion, drank it and exited his quarters, walking down to the Great Hall.

_Week or so later..._

Harry shifted in his bed, a moan escaping his lips. His mouth tasted bitter and his throat was begging for water. Slowly he opened his eyes. There was gross crust embedded on his lashes and Harry wiped it off with the back of his hand. He opened his eyes completely. Oh, bad idea! Blinding light made him close his eyes instantly. He blindly felt for edge of the bed under him and shakily sat up against his pillows. Harry opened his eyes into his cupped hands, hoping to introduce the bright light to his pupils slowly.

He was successful, and he looked around him. It certainly looked like a hospital. _What am I doing here?_ Images of a particular night overwhelmed him and he clutched the bedside table. _What's happened since then?_

He looked around: the room was plain white, his bed was small but comfortable, and a long curtain was drawn to the side of his bed. On shaky legs, he rose to see where he was; it was a hospital…that was for sure, probably the same hospital the man named Dumbledore had taken him to. He wondered where everyone was. He looked down and saw he was wearing brown pyjamas. The stiffness of his body told him that he was covered in bandages. In fact, he could see from the open flap on his chest that there was a large bandage there and he felt a large bandage on his back as well.

He walked to the door in front of his bed, steadying himself with the mattress. As he did, he noticed 'Get Well Soon' balloons and cards next to his bed. _Those must be for someone else_, he thought. He took small steps and slipped into some loafers lying on the floor. Holding on to the frame of the door, he stuck his head out.

He smiled when he saw the man named Dumbledore and the one that had saved him, Arthur Weasley talking with his doctor. They had not noticed him. There were also several people behind them: a plump woman with red hair that looked so warm and welcoming, a huge man with frizzy hair and a beard, a stern looking older lady, and two kids.

Harry studied the children; there was a red headed boy who looked just about his own age; he had blue eyes and was talking with his little sister excitedly. The little girl was pretty, Harry thought. She had long fiery red hair and was wearing a blue summer dress. Harry ducked his head inside with a pink blush when the little girl turned to look at him.

They were probably Arthur's children; he had kept his promise and had brought them. Harry smiled, his spirits lifted completely. He shyly built of his courage and peeked out of the door again to see the little girl tugging at her mother's clothes and pointing to the door.

"Harry! What are you doing up and about?!" Arthur walked towards him, and the rest of the pack was behind him looking curious and excited.

Harry cleared his face of any expression, hiding his apprehension about having such a large group redirect their attention towards him. "Mr. Weasley! It's nice to see you again," he said honestly, to cool his nerves he nervously added, "Although, I wish we could have met while I was feeling a bit more…better." Harry outstretched his hand and Arthur took it. Harry averted his eyes when Arthur observed him closely, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

After a few seconds, Arthur seemed to have realized Harry's state and said, "I'm glad, you look a lot better." Stretching out and arm to the rest of the people in the audience, Arthur grabbed his shoulder and directed him forward.

"You probably already met some of these people. There is--"

"Dumbledore and Doctor Gantry," Harry interrupted, remembering the horrid state he had been in and feeling grateful for their help in getting him better when they could have just left him to die. It was beyond him, trying to figure out why they had done it for him.

Pleased, Arthur exclaimed happily, "Why yes, I knew you'd remember! They weren't really sure how much you would recall. You seemed kind of delirious for a few days."

Harry smiled at both of them, not daring to look at either of them in the eyes. "Thank you. I feel lots better."

"Really, Harry, I'm just happy to see you up and about!" Healer Gantry gave him a pleasant smile.

"I am glad to hear it too. I hope I can speak to you a little later, Harry?" Dumbledore made a step toward the side and revealed the people behind him.

Harry just nodded his head and looked at the other people, curious about who had actually come to see him. The children were holding onto their mother's hands.

Dumbledore gestured to the large man; he could have been a good eight feet. "This is Rubeus Hagrid. He works at the school I am in charge of."

"Hello, pleasure to meet you." Harry walked over to the man and held out his hand-- noting briefly that the one he held out was bandaged; he frowned, and switched hands. Walking was easier now that his body had accustomed itself to moving, even though his body felt stiff, he didn't feel any pain. Hagrid grinned and enveloped his hand with both of his; he seemed really friendly.

"Harry, I r'member you as a lil' baby. You've grown lots," Hagrid said.

Harry resisted the temptation to ask about his parents but he didn't feel this was the right time. Dumbledore then took a hold of his shoulder and steered him to the older lady next to Hagrid. "This is Professor McGonagall. She also works at my school."

Harry was a little hesitant due to the stern expression of the lady, but her cat-like eyes seemed warm and friendly.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter."

"Same here, m'am." Harry's cocked his head to the side in humor for the formal greeting, assuming she addressed everyone in such a formal manner. Harry held back a chuckle when he thought of her introducing herself to a small baby. Instead he was turned to his side and directed to the redheads. Arthur had moved next to them, eager to introduce his family.

"This is my wife Molly." Arthur pointed to his wife and Harry tentatively shook her hand in response. She had a nice kind smile on her face that spread warmth about Harry. For a second, Harry thought the woman's arms were going to hug him, but she had looked down at him and his bandages and had thought better of it.

"This is my youngest son Ron. According to him, he is not nine, but nine and a half. Next to him is his little sister Ginny."

Both of his children said hello shyly. A look of sadness passed through Harry's eyes for a second as he thought it was probably the first time a child his own age wasn't afraid to speak to him. He recovered and said small and hoarse 'Hi'.

"I'm not little, Daddy!" The little girl named Ginny stomped her foot on the ground in protest.

"Okay, you're not little." Arthur turned to him again and smiled. "This is my large daughter Ginny."

The boy named Ron laughed loudly and Harry smiled. The girl just blushed and gave her father a stern look but then burst into laughter, her small hands covering her mouth as she giggled.

Harry loved the way her giggle sounded; it was not the usual annoying sound he heard from girls at his school, it was a contagious melody that rung beautifully in his ears. He was also distracted by the way her entire face brightened, and how her light-brown eyes glowed like droplets of a slow melting chocolate. When Harry noticed he had been staring, he cleared his throat and looked away hastily.

Harry remembered his dry throat and turned back to Doctor Gantry. "May I have a cup of water please, sir?"

"Absolutely, Harry. You really should be in bed and resting. You shouldn't even be able to be walking right now. I'm going to send someone in to remove your bandages. Right now I am going to talk to Dumbledore for a little bit. Don't be afraid to ask for anything." Healer Gantry smiled pleasantly and made a motion for Dumbledore to follow.

"He's right. Here I will help you to bed, dear." Molly held on to his shoulder as if she was afraid he would topple over.

"I feel fine, just a little stiff. It's like I've slept for ages." Harry stressed his last point to Mrs. Weasley but it would have been more effective if he had spoken to a wall.

"Don't be silly, dear." Molly pushed him down on the bed and fluffed up the pillows. Arthur gave him a 'sorry' look. Hagrid came in, looking like he wanted to laugh at Harry's predicament. And the two kids were giving him understanding glances.

McGonagall came in with a glass of water and handed it to Harry, who took it with a 'thank you'. Two nurses came in and shooed everyone from the room.

"Well just wait outside, Harry." Arthur said as he closed the door behind him.

"My name is Kelly, and this is Fannie. We are just going to check your wounds, okay?"

They both wore nurse uniforms: long white skirts, an apron with what Harry assumed were the hospital crest, and on their heads were little nurse's hats. Fannie was an older, heavy-set woman; she had gray streaked hair but looked kind. Kelly was in her thirties and had long blond hair; she was stout, and spoke with a squeaky voice.

Harry nodded his head and watched in the mirror (he hadn't noticed it before) that was across from his bed as they removed the bandages. He looked down and observed his skin. Everything he had ever learned about injuries told him that the wounds he had received should still be open. Regardless, he could not deny what he was seeing. Oh, boy was he going to have a lot of questions for Dumbledore.

Most of the wounds were healed completely; just leaving sensitive pinkish skin. Some however, looked dreadful. He was sure he was going to be left with jagged permanent scars. The scars were only in some places; one line ran across his chest to his abdomen in a slanted line. Another ran down his left leg and stopped at his calf; he was sure the chain had wrapped around his leg and curved backwards to the back of the leg. There was another that wounded down his right arm, all the way down to his hand. There was one line across his back and another running to it from his left shoulder, making an imperfect three-sided intersection.

The nurses told him that as he grew, the scars would only become thin white lines. He couldn't help but feel sad that he would have a reminder of the day. He wiped the thought from his mind immediately; he would not go back to that day...ever! They dressed him up again after putting some cream on his skin. With that done, they left the room.

Healer Gantry led Dumbledore to his small office.

"Well, Dumbledore like I was saying, I want to keep Harry here at least a few more days for obser---"

"That will not be necessary; Harry looks perfectly fine to me. In a normal situation, I would comply with this, but first of all, Harry knows nothing of the Wizarding world- - as you have seen today by his calling you 'Doctor'--and next, I fear what would happen if news got out he was here. After such a traumatic experience, I doubt something like a media ambush is what he needs. And I need him to convince someone who I think would be a worthy guardian."

"I suppose there is nothing I could say that would change your mind?" The healer sighed heavily, the corners of his mouth going into a frown.

"Not a single word. I remain an absolutely stubborn old man."

They both smiled at each other and Dumbledore shook his hand.

"I hope you take good care of Harry."

"I will try my best." With that, Dumbledore exited the room, robes swirling behind him. He approached the figures waiting outside of Harry's closed room. "I take it they are changing his bandages?" Dumbledore asked.

The room nodded.

"Minerva, may I have you accompany me to a certain, shall we say, 'appointment'?

Half the room stood up with wands drawn and livid expressions—with the exception of Hagrid, who balled his hands at his side. They knew automatically he was speaking of the Dursleys.

Dumbledore raised his hand, his eyebrows rising. "That is exactly the reason why I am only taking Minerva." He said the words sternly but a twinkle sparkled in his eyes.

The other adults sat back down, mumbling under their breaths and shoving their wands back into their respective places.

McGonagall gave a look of disapproval to the others and walked up to the Headmaster.

"Now I believe it is room twenty-nine. Am I correct, Albus?"

"Yes." The old wizard grinned, and glanced back to the agitated adults looking livid in front of him.

They walked down a narrow hallway, down several staircases, and went past other patients. One unlucky wizard seemed to have inflated his right hand so large it was dragging on the floor behind him. A witch was covered completely with pulsating boils.

They stopped in front of room twenty-nine, and Dumbledore took a collective breath. "I think it would be wise you hold this." Dumbledore handed her his wand.

McGonagall glanced down at his wand and back to his face, expressing her reluctance. Dumbledore nodded at her and she finally took it and stowed it in her robes. With that done, she cast a spell that opened the door. It was a normal room that held three beds aligned next to each other. Huddled in the corner was the Dursley family.

"WHO ARE YOU?! WE HAVE BEEN HERE FOR WHAT WE BELIEVE TO BE SEVEN DAYS! THREE PLATES OF FOOD JUST HAPPEN TO APEAR OU T OF NOWHERE, BUT WE HAVE YET TO SEE A LIVING SOUL! WHO ARE YOU?! IF YOU ARE A KIDNAPPER, I DEMAND TO BE RELEASED! IF YOU ARE POLICE, I WANT MY LAWYER! DON'T YOU BELIEVE FOR A SECOND THAT I AM GOING TO TAKE KINDLY TO BEING TREATED THIS WAY!" Vernon Dursley was bellowing from the top of his lungs like an agitated walrus, his son and wife cowering behind him.

"SILENCE!!!!! You are fortunate to have not encountered anyone!" Dumbledore said, angry, but still appearing composed.

"NOW YOU LISTEN---Vernon Dursley was angry. As usual, he wasn't easily intimidated.

"I SAID SILENCE! INTERRUPT AGAIN, AND I WILL PERSONALLY SEAL THAT HOLE IN YOUR FACE!" Dumbledore was quickly losing his patience and the air was becoming quite warm. Vernon was about to open his mouth and retort but he quickly shut it when the eyes of the old man flared. He snapped his mouth shut, giving him the appearance of a fish.

"We are here to discuss Harry Potter and his ill treatment. ---"

"THAT FREAK DESERVED IT," Vernon snarled.

"MR. DURSLEY, ARE YOU SO UNINTELLIGENT THAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND MY SPEECH?! Perhaps, I will speak slower; maybe I'll draw a little map on the back of your hand so that you DON'T GET LOST! As I was saying, before I was RUDELY interrupted... I left Harry Potter on you doorstep those years ago and I expected him be treated like a part of your family. You have done nothing of this sort. You have failed horribly and felt no need to even offer him proper shelter; I suspect you kept him locked up like a caged animal. His treatment was abysmal and nothing short of barbaric. The incident a couple days ago was beyond my imagination of any possible human conduct. It is taking ALL my will power not to pass your punishment to you right now."

"So, he is alive then? How were we to squash the unnaturalness out of him? He is a mutant and a disgrace t---" Vernon's mouth was hit with a purple light. His lips sealed together an he clutched at his face frantically.

Dumbledore turned around to see McGonagall put her wand down, a smirk on her face. She was glaring and her lips were pursed tightly. "My wand slipped...Well, I can't stand…he was rather offensive."

Dumbledore frowned and held his hand out for his wand with a glare on his face. A twitch of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his true emotions. McGonagall amusingly gave him his wand. Putting her hands out in a mock surrender, she stepped away to indicate she would not interfere further.

"Vernon!" Petunia Dursley dragged herself and her son to the fallen patriarch.

Petunia, now over her initial shock, looked up to them with disgust lining her horsey face. She shielded her huge son behind her and spoke. "Undo it! NOW! I should have known...Who are you?!"

"Oh, how very rude of me. My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. My companion is Minerva McGonagall."

Petunia Dursley's eyes widened in horror, she knew exactly who she was speaking to. And if what her sister had told her was true, Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, as well as the person that had dropped her nephew on her doorstep those years ago.

"Would you look at that, Minerva, I think she knows me." Dumbledore grinned, but his light-blue eyes were slightly narrowed and he didn't look all that cheerful.

Disdain lined her face as McGonagall responded, "Why of course, Albus." Her hands folded out in front of her and her beady eyes falling on the lump of a boy cowering and silent next to his mother.

"Do you think we should make them comfortable?"

"May I?" Minerva lifted her wand at the ready, her voice cool.

"Absolutely, by all means."

McGonagall flicked her wand and three large wooden chairs appeared. Each Dursley was magically held down to their assigned chair. Vernon had stopped moving about and was looking at them in horror. Petunia held her mouth open as if attempting to catch flies and their son hadn't moved and was staring blankly ahead of him.

"Well now that you are settled in, let's get down to the business at hand. As I have said, Mr. Dursley, when we are done here today, I will send you back to your dingy inhabitance and your home will be raided. You will be arrested and charged with assault on a minor by Muggle authorities."

Vernon Dursley's eyes widened, if possible, even more. Petunia Dursley grimaced but said nothing.

"Now, as for you, Petunia Dursley, I have more than a couple of words to say to you. In my letter to you I informed you that by keeping Harry you would not just be protecting him, but making your home one of the safest locations in the world. The wards have probably saved you more times than you will ever know. If you felt no connection to your only remaining blood relative, I don't really care, the point is that you were to do your duty and give Harry the chance that you never gave your late sister. Your hatred has effectively turned you into a sorry excuse for a human being. Never in my life have I ever seen such a level of neglect on a child. My only positive assumption is that you have not afflicted the same level of damage on him that you have on your beluga of a son next to you."

"I what?! I have never mistreated Dudders!" Petunia gasped.

"Your inability to even see the damage you have caused your son is my point exactly."

Petunia Dursley looked shell shocked. She shot glances at her son as if he was going to morph into something else.

"By not pressing charges against you, I only wish that you reverse your ways and give your child a proper chance to live a decent life. For I think all youths should have a second chance to a successful future. Furthermore, in the future, if Harry Potter wishes to reconcile and contact you, you should feel obliged to ask for his forgiveness. Fortunately, I would not blame him for having no mercy on you. I still cannot believe that after being treated as nothing more than a slave for most of his life, that he had the decency to ask if you had survived. Now, your disgraceful presence is using every fiber of my self- control."

Vernon Dursley snapped out of his horror, he had just realized how Dumbledore was ripping his family to shreds with his snide comments. He hopped his blubbering mass on the chair, making the chair crack and break under the pressure. He got up, indignation lining his red face. With fist raised, he charged Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled, he had been waiting for such a opportunity to vent his emotions. He ducked Vernon's punch, swerved around in an acrobatic stance, shoved his fist into his face, and kicked the larger man straight in the gut. Vernon went flying across the room. He was thrown against a wall, causing the entire room to tremble. A needle thick crack had split the wall. Vernon slumped to the ground, wind kicked out of him, and turned a stark white until red blood poured out profusely from his nose and mouth.

"Now that he got that out of his system, let's send you folks home," Dumbledore spoke lightly.

He conjured three large stuffed beluga whales, said 'PORTUS' with a jab at each stuffed animal. Then he chucked each one at the heads of all the Dursleys and watched them disappear in turn.

McGonagall gave him a look of disbelief but Dumbledore just turned around with the brightest twinkle in his eyes that anyone had ever witnessed.

They walked down to Harry's room to meet the still waiting visitors. They were just in time to see the exiting nurses.

Harry looked out the door and got off his bed. He wasn't staying in bed a moment longer. He looked up at Dumbledore expectantly, he still had several questions. But first, he needed to ask his most dreaded question.

He looked down at his feet just as Dumbledore approached. "Sir, do--will I have to return to the Dursleys?" Harry asked tentatively, biting his lip, and bearing himself for the disappointment that was sure to come.

"No, Harry you don't have to return there."

Harry looked up happily, his emerald eyes brightening. "Never?"

"Never, ever!" Dumbledore answered happily, watching Harry's face light up and loving every minute of it.

Harry was so happy he jumped up and hugged Dumbledore waist. His wish for every imaginary birthday candle had come true. He was finally free! Dumbledore chuckled and lifted him up so that Harry could sit on the edge of the bed.

"Now, Harry, we have a busy day today. We have lots to discuss and I got permission for your release from the hospital."

"Yes, sir." Harry felt happier than he had ever felt in his life.

Arthur came forward and handed him a small pile of clothing, complete with some worn trainers on top. "Well, Harry, this isn't much. But, you are going to need clothes for today. This is some of Ron's clothes. He was kind enough to give them to you until you can get some of your very own."

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley. I appreciate it. They are bound to fit me better than Dudley's old clothes anyway."

"Well, my family and I should get going. Don't be a stranger, Harry. You're always welcome in our home."

Harry smiled in response and said his goodbyes to each of the Weasleys. McGonagall announced she had things she needed to get back to and left.

"Now 'arry well' b waitin' jus' outside d' door there. Take ur'time, no hurry. "

Harry dressed. Arthur had given him jeans, blue trainers, and a green long-sleeved flannel shirt. He was grateful they covered his scars. He wasn't really comfortable with showing them to anyone.

He went over to the mirror. He felt his face, feeling for any bruises. He could feel little prickles were the large bruises were meant to be, but nothing was visible. Harry always knew he tended to have his injuries heal a little faster than a normal child, but he had never given it much thought. Maybe his body was so used to it now; it just knew exactly what to do. He ran a hand through his dark hair and examined the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. He swept some of his black fringe over it; he really didn't like people asking questions he didn't know an answer to.

Aunt Petunia had told him that his parents had died in a car accident. She had gone as far as to tell him that the scar was 'proof that his father was incompetent'. Several times she had informed him that his father was an unemployed drunk who most likely poisoned him to be as 'filthy' and as 'useless' as he. He didn't really know what to believe of what his Aunt Petunia said about them.

So far, he was building up quite the list of questions, and it looked like Dumbledore knew the answer to some of them. And the way Mr. Weasley had not been afraid of him when they met under such undesirable conditions, served to fuel Harry's need for answers. Something was going on. He wasn't as oblivious to things as most kids his age were. No, life with the Dursley had taught him to think.

He just had an overpowering feeling that he needed to trust these people, that they would assist him. But, where was he going to live now? Not that finally escaping the Dursleys wasn't his dream come true--it was-- but he wondered how events would unfold. There were so many questions that directly affected his own future that just left him with an uneasy feeling.

Harry opened the door to the room, they hadn't noticed him yet. Hagrid and Dumbledore were discussing something.

_"--Yer not sayin' we take' em' straight through d' lobby, d'ya?!"_

_"That's true, even if we informed him of it here, the shock of seeing the possible repercussions of if could drive him away. "_

_We can Floo em' to yer office and tell em' there. Surely, seeing d'skool could give em' a nice take on it?"_

_"How do you suggest we go about convincing a child to leap into a raging fire?" _Dumbledore whispered softly, a hint of humor in his voice.

Harry was getting a bit uncomfortable with the conversation. _Leaping into raging fires? Being in shock?_ He hastily cleared his throat to announce his presence. They each put a hand on his shoulder and started to steer him down the hallway. They approached a fireplace and Harry started to drag his feet a little.

They stopped just ahead of it. Harry noticed that they were in an empty room, no one but a receptionist sat at her desk in what appeared to be a waiting area. His gaze started to lift towards the signs, but before he could read them Dumbledore interrupted.

"Well, Hagrid, since it was your idea, I think you should explain." Dumbledore said amusingly to Hagrid in a mock cool tone. His day just got brighter and brighter.

Hagrid gave him a 'you would' look before speaking to Harry. "arry' ave' ye ever done something ye can't explain. Something funny happenin' when ye be feelin' a certain strong emotion. Ave' ye ever made something like that appen', that ye can't explain?"

Harry furrowed his brows in thought. "Well... like what happened to the Dursley's house?"

"Uhh... ya exactly like that! Yer a wizard arry'!"

"A what?"

"A wizard, jus' like ur mum and dad before ya."

"But…no...Aunt Petunia... she told me my dad was a drunk, he… they died in a car accident. I was the only survivor." Harry was in shock. _Magic? _How was he to believe that?

"A CAR ACCIDENT KILLED LILY AND JAMES POTTER," Hagrid yelled before he noticed Harry take a few steps back. He frowned and made sure to indicate who he was directing his anger towards, "they were powerful wizards, ur mum and dad were! Honorable till' the very end. Ruddy lies, all that woman has ever told ya! How dare she not do justice to their memories!"

Harry shuffled his feet, he was taking in a lot of news at once, and hearing about how all he had ever heard of his parents was a complete and utter lie was more than unsettling. "How did ...they ...die?" Harry spoke quietly, not sure he wanted to ruin his fantasies of them with what he would be told.

It was Dumbledore that spoke, "There will be plenty of time for that tonight; right now I want to take you somewhere I am sure you will love."

Harry's sad eyes lifted a bit and he smiled, now curious as to where Dumbledore would take him. "Where?" he asked, genuinely eager to know.

"I know you have heard of me being the head of a school, this school; however, is the Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is one of the best schools in all of Europe. You may not be old enough to attend, but in a little more than a year you will. So, I suppose you could get a 'sneak peek' as to the workings of a Wizarding school. Your parents attended as well."

Harry's eyes lightened up with excitement.

"First let me show you what you are to do to get there today. I will go first, then Hagrid will instruct you, and I will meet you on the other side. Now, I am going to take some of this powder, its called 'Floo powder', it allows us wizards to travel using Fireplaces that connect to a sort of network. You simply grab some powder, throw it into the fire, jump right in, and yell your desired destination. I must warn you that pronunciation is key here. The word you will use is a password for my private network. It is 'Frogcard heroes'. I assure you the name choice for the week was completely random." Dumbledore chuckled a bit, handed a bag of powder to Hagrid, and grabbed some himself. He flung it into the fire, stepped right in, and yelled "Frogcard heroes". Dumbledore disappeared into a rush of green flames.

Harry gaped; stepping into a open fire was rather intimidating. Every instinct in his body was telling him that these people were off their rockers. _Wasn't your first reaction to a fire to step away?! ---Not into it!_

"arry' its yer turn." Hagrid pushed some translucent powder into Harry's hand and gave him a nudge forward.

Harry gulped as he walked towards the fire, tossed the dust into the flames, and looked at the fire as if it was going to taunt him. He forced his feet forward and he put a foot into the flames. Harry was entirely surprised; the flames felt cool and warm at the same time. He said the 'magic' words and felt as if he was being twirled and twisted into space. He could even see several sitting rooms with occupants going about their business. He landed with a loud thump on his bottom.

Dumbledore gave him a hand up with a hearty chuckle. "It does take some time to get used to."

They turned around to see Hagrid crawling through Dumbledore's fireplace. They were covered in soot. Harry observed as Dumbledore waved a fine crafted wooden stick at him and Hagrid. The soot just disappeared.

"Wow, what is that?!" Harry asked, his eyes displaying his amazement.

"It's a wand, a tool wizards and witches use to harness their magical power. You may receive one when you turn eleven."

"So, how can I do magic without that." Harry inquired with a puzzled expression.

"When we are younger, depending on magical power, we have tendencies to have less control. Magic is directly influenced by emotions, and powerful emotions can make you release magic without the catalyst of a wand. Usually the magic is unpredictable, which is why we need wands in the first place. They act as a catalyst that control power of spells and incantations."

"Okay, so what I did is common?" Harry asked, desperate to know that he wasn't a freak in this other world too. It showed was clearly evident in his tone.

Dumbledore frowned slightly as he observed the boy's face look so hopeful. He suppressed a sigh at what he was about to do. "Not exactly, you may be more you unique than others."

Harry's face fell, and he asked softly, "How am I different, sir?"

"That will lead us to a whole new discussion, one we must indulge in if you are to come in contact with the Wizarding world. You see, your name is famous here."

Harry gasped, his little eyes growing as large as saucers. "That's not possible...I'm just Harry. I'm not... special." He took a few unsteady steps back and flinched when Hagrid made to grab him in a gesture of comfort.

The twinkle completely vanished from Dumbledore's eyes, but he shook his head off to the side so that Hagrid kept his distance. He maintained a neutral expression as he spoke to Harry again, "Oh, but you are. Have you ever wondered where you got that scar?"

Harry nodded his head, his eyebrows furrowed. His hands were sweaty and he was wringing them in front of him, overwhelmed with what he was hearing.

"Harry, you are known here as the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. A dark wizard attacked your home when you were just an infant. Your parents died to protect you. When he went to kill you, the curse he had aimed at you rebounded off to him. That scar marks you as the only known survivor of the Killing Curse."

Harry stared at the Headmaster, hardly believing his ears. How was he famous? "My parents died to protect me?" Harry's eyes darkened with sorrow. "So, I...I don't understand."

"Not to worry, you will understand. I just thought you should be aware of how people will react to you. You are likely to encounter stares, questions, and many other things." Albus observed the boy closely; noticing that he had stiffened to avoid fidgeting and that he was afraid to meet his eyes fully, although he kept his chin up and strong. "Harry, if you would like you could have a few minutes to yourself. You will find that I can be quite patient. I suggest you pace the office; it helps me think when I am pondering over a particular issue."

With a brief smile, Harry nodded and he walked around the office, examining everything while Hagrid and Dumbledore gave him some time to chew on it. The office was fascinating; there were books, silver instruments of all kinds, artifacts that looked ancient. He didn't dare touch anything, not wanting to be yelled at. "Who was the dark wizard, sir?" he asked as his curiosity peaked.

Hagrid was the first to respond this time. "Oh, he wuz a cruel and merciless villain. He's so feared to this day, we dare not speak hiz name. We call em' 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. He declared war with d' Magical Community, learning the darkest of spells to accomplish his goals. He attacked any who opposed em'."

"What's his real name?" Harry saw Hagrid shudder when he asked him so he set his eyes on Dumbledore.

"His name was Voldemort." Dumbledore replied as he watched the boy take in all the information.

"So, the curse rebounded off me and hit Voldemort?"

"Yes, Harry, that is correct." Dumbledore nodded hi head as he continued to peer over his half-moon spectacles.

"Then why am I so famous? It doesn't sound like I did much of anything. I was just a baby, right?"

"Dumbledore smiled at him. "Yes, you were only an infant at the time. But, you must keep in mind that you are the only known survivor of that curse. That curse is one of the foulest pieces of magic you can imagine. Nothing can stop it; its power is just too strong. Most of the world was baffled over it. Nonetheless, you are considered a hero because you brought an end to one of the worst reigns by any dark wizard in history."

Harry shrugged, still confused. It would take him some time to digest the information, but all he felt was a distinct hollowness that he just couldn't place.

Suddenly, a low rumble was heard in the room. Harry blushed profusely when he realized it was his stomach.

To Harry's surprise, Hagrid and Dumbledore laughed, leaving the young boy baffled over the fact that that they could be so kind to him.

"Come on arry' well take ya down ter eat something!" Hagrid patted him in the back and Harry worked extra hard not to jump as the large hand collided with his back.


	6. Sanctuary

**Discliamer:** No infringement is intended. I just play in J.K's world.

**A/N: ** This is my first fanfic, and story, I would really appreciate the reviews. Enjoy!!!

**Sanctuary**

"Dumbledore, Wat d'ya say we give em' a proper tour of some of d' castle? Most kids should b' in their dormitories anyway."

"I am not so positive of that, Hagrid. If word got out that Harry was here, we would greatly regret it. We could simply call for the Houselves and have them bring something for him."

"Oh' but Dumbledore that's no fun at all, is it?" Hagrid complained as if he was being told that he couldn't play with his new best friend. Harry blinked at that, a warm feeling filling him up, but hid his smile.

"Actually, Hagrid, isn't about time to head down to Hogsmeade?"

Hagrid looked at the grandfather clock next to Dumbledore's desk, noting it was nearing six in the evening. "Well, wud ya look at that. Yer right."

"We don't want to miss who were going to go see, now would we? It would also be a perfect opportunity to take Harry out to eat. He hasn't had a straight meal in days. Living on only Nourishment Potions can't be all that good for you."

"Fair nough'! Come along, arry', yer up for a treat. We're going into a wizarding village"

Harry smiled at the prospect.

Dumbledore lead him out a spiraling staircase and past a gargoyle at the entrance. Harry gaped; it actually looked like a castle in the inside. The walls were covered in tapestries, lanterns that gave the halls warm glows, thick stone walls, and large windows that confirmed Harry's suspicion of being in a tower of some sort.

They passed several portraits and Harry could have sworn some of them had tipped their hats or winked at him. They descended some stairs and he almost toppled over when he saw that there must have been eighty or more staircases that moved and shifted.

"You might want to watch your step Harry, this entire castle is run by magic, and the stairs tend to shift from all seven floors. Also, you might want to watch your feet so that you don't step into a trick step," Dumbledore warned him.

Harry visibly gulped, "Okay, sir."

They kept on descending and at one point they went by an open classroom. Harry paused and observed. McGonagall was there and she was speaking with two redheaded twins.

_"Do you know why you two are here?" _

_The pair looked at each other as if sharing a silent secret before saying, "No Professor, we have no clue."_ They put on innocent faces and looked at her as if they were genuinely confused.

"Oh, you don't? Perhaps, a week's detention would help you remember?"

The two shared a glance and smirked, _"Okay, okay, we surrender. But in our defense we were just spreading a little cheer."_

_"Oh, and I suppose everyone goes about that by transfiguring a classmate's personal belongings into roaches?"_

They now shared a nervous glance.

_"Well, I will only leave you off with a warning because you meant no malice by it. Also, that was a great show of skill for a first year, and I am rather impressed; however, refrain from going on your humor adventures while in my class. Do I make myself clear, boys?"_

They both nodded their heads but had smiles on their faces as they exited the room, closing the door behind them.

At the same time, when Harry was about ready to run for being caught eavesdropping, they stopped and stared curiously at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"Harry started to apologize but was interrupted by an excited voice.

"Wow, George I think that's Harry Potter!"

"No way, Fred!" He stared at Harry as if hoping to find his name somewhere; his eyes fell on his scar.

"Fred you might be right, look at his scar." They both looked excited and slightly confused.

Harry shrunk and wanted to melt into the floor. He turned to see if Dumbledore or Hagrid would help but they were watching the confrontation as if watching a picture show. Harry rolled his eyes. Dumbledore wore a benign smile and Hagrid was grinning. He obviously wasn't going to get help from them.

They two turned to Harry and stretched their hands out for a greeting. Harry almost ducked and stopped himself at the last second, nervously glancing back towards the older men that had brought him to there in the first place.

"Pleased to--

meet you, Harry."

They completed each others sentences as if it was a practiced skit. Harry couldn't help but grin.

"I'm George Weasley--"

"I'm his twin brother Fred Weasley."

Harry shook their hands, recognizing their last name. "Hi, I think I know your dad. He…well, he helped me out." Harry blushed at the attention and scuffed his shoe against the floor, suddenly nervous that he wouldn't live up to whatever image they thought him as. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the whole 'Voldemort business'.

"We'll have to write home, they never wrote us about meeting you! We are two of seven kids total." Fred declared happily.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Seven?!"

"Yup, and only one girl."

Hiding a sudden surge of sadness and jealousy for the boys having something he had always longed for, Harry forced his face to draw a blank.

Dumbledore came up to them, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder in a reassuring manner. He addressed the twin boys, "Boys, I will need you to keep meeting Harry to yourselves. Can I trust that this information will stay strictly confidential?" With an impressive raise of the eyebrows to prove he was serious, he made them flinch.

Surprised at the request, they stared at the Headmaster before they readily agreed. Harry kept his gaze fixed on the floor and tried to stay quite, uncomfortable that the interaction was about him.

Dumbledore patted him on their shoulder gently, his voice smooth as he spoke, "We should get going, Harry."

Harry shyly said goodbye to the twins and was led down to the ground floor. Hagrid heaved the giant oak doors that led to the grounds open. They walked until they exited the large iron front gates that marked the entrance to Hogwarts. The gates were resealed behind them. They spoke as they walked down the gravel road that lead to their destination.

"Where exactly is Hogwarts?" Harry was curious; he hadn't had the chance to actually observe the outside of the castle. And he had gathered the courage enough to ask the question, something that would have been surely punished at Privet Drive.

"It's in Scotland." Hagrid took a couple steps back to meet Harry's small steps.

"I didn't think the Floo Network went that far!" Harry admitted.

Dumbledore glanced back at them, he was walking just in front of them. "They can go to any area they are hooked to. South America if you like!" he turned back around and started to hum while his hands where clasped behind his back.

Another thought came to Harry's mind. "How come regular people don't know about magic?"

Hagrid chuckled. "Well, Muggles don' see much of anytin' do they?" He raised his eyebrows over his kind eyes and sent the youth a smile.

Harry bit his lip, unsure if he was asking too many questions and that they were soon going to tell the 'freak' to shut up. "What is a 'Muggle'?" Harry inquired apprehensively.

"Non-magical folk," Dumbledore replied, observing him over his half-moon spectacles. "We keep our entire society hidden from the knowledge of the Muggles. We have spells that repel them from wizarding areas as well. Hogwarts itself looks like a giant pile of rubble; it even comes with a sign warning off people from the grounds."

"That's incredible!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, before flushing and getting a hold of himself so that they wouldn't think that he was just a little kid that would be too much trouble.

Glancing back, Dumbledore observed the youth and mentally exhaled, wondering what the amount of damage inflicted on the child would be. The trio reached the village just as the sun was setting. The lights of the lanterns lighted the small village and giving it a majestic quality. Harry observed as people dressed in robes just like Dumbledore's laughed and strode from shop to shop. Dumbledore lead them to a pub called 'The Three Broomsticks'.

Remus Lupin sat at his usual spot in his favorite pub. He would come there everyday after looking for work. He mostly failed horribly at acquiring any type of employment. They took one glance at his resumé and bolted the room.

_Damn the Ministry! _

They had just passed a new decree that required all people suffering from Lycanthropy to indicate so before accepting a job. The decree was another ploy to push out 'certain' unwanted members of society.

To a degree, he had gotten used to the fact that he would always live half-life. He could never be married or have a family. If he got out during a full moon, he could easily kill them. He would not go through that, no matter how much he suffered for it.

The truth was, he hated being who he was. Hated how his family had shunned him. They had never been openly hateful to him but he could see the disappointed looks in their eyes when they looked at him. They kept quite a distance from him for most of his life. He had even convinced himself that he had been the reason for their early deaths. To add to that, the only friends he had ever had were gone. Nothing could change that- -he was alone.

Hell, he could even admit he had been in a solid depression since the night he had seen the mangled bodies at Godric's hollow. It had been too much to bear.

He was so close to the edge. Yet, he lacked the courage to end his misery, to end his own life. Even on his worst of days he could never do it; so, instead he would come to the same bar and drink until he could no longer dream, till he was too intoxicated to care for what would become of him.

His parents had left him a small inheritance that he was now living off. Funny, they had not thought or cared to specify that their son was estranged to the goblins. So, he had become the heir to their diminutive fortune. At the time, he had sworn not to touch it, although that had lasted only a few years, until he had run back to it desperately.

The Ministry made it impossible to do much of anything. He only managed under-the-table tutoring until they caught on or found out about his condition. He hated those times the most. They looked at him as if he was an evil animal and would throw him out of the house. It didn't matter what his skills were, it only mattered that he was a dangerous creature. The respect those people kept for humanity was gone in an instant when they discovered what he was forced to become every full moon.

He wasn't daft to believe his appearance wasn't taking the toll for his inner turmoil. His eyes bore a dead quality; they never brightened anymore like they had in his youth. His hair had taken to immature graying. And soft wrinkles that would never be seen on a late twenty-something-ish guy were etched on his face. He closed his eyes as he swallowed another gulp of Firewhiskey. Some liquid trickled down his chin and moistened the front of his shabby gray suit. _So much for the outfit!_

He leaned his goblet on his forehead as a nightmare crossed through his memories. He often had nightmares of the night he had found his best friend murdered. In the dream, James' ghost would accuse him for his death, saying he had done nothing to protect him. Remus took a deep breath and washed the thought away. _How come he hadn't seen a betrayal from their own circle? He was supposed to be the most observant one!_ A part of him even felt guilty for living on while James and Lily had to die. They could have used life better than he ever could. And they could have raised their son-- Harry.

Remus often thought of him, he could never visit him. He feared the boy would look too much like James or Lily; and the years it had taken for Remus to recover to a functional level had been a grueling experience. Besides, Harry was happy where he was...Petunia was good with her own son. Maybe she had treated Harry as one of her own. Perhaps, Harry wanted nothing to do with him. He had sent a letter and present the year before for Harry's birthday and Christmas. He had explained in the letter he had been a friend of his parents and that he just wanted to make sure he was being taken care of. It had taken months for Remus to convince himself to actually write. Harry had never written back.

Maybe it was for the best; no one should have relations with someone like him. It was unhealthy. _I am a werewolf for Merlin's sake!_ How could he not look at him in disgust like the rest of the world did? He did practically turn into a blood thirsty murderer every full moon. The transformations hurt like hell, but what hurt even more was to be doing it in solitude for the first time since Hogwarts. Seriously, why did he even bother trying to cope with everything? There was nothing worth living for. It was painful to be alone...but what other choice did he have? He had no coming future prospects, no promising career he could use his excellent skills in, no happy family life in the horizon anywhere, nothing...he had nothing. Nothing but his daily mundane routine that ended with him either drinking, or contemplating his own life with his wand at his throat while he huddled in a corner.

Only one thing kept him going, but he was slowly losing hope of anything happening with that situation. So far, no one had chosen to listen to the 'dangerous beast's' pleas. But like every year, he would try again and again--using it as his only goal and salvation.

He was ready to go home; he stood up and nearly stumbled over his stool when he saw who had just come in.

"Merlin! James?" He gasped and gazed at a small version of his best friend. He felt a ball forming in his throat as he dug his nails into the tattered wood of the bar and closed his eyes, willing the ball in his throat back down.

The trio approached him as he opened his eyes. The boy was behind Dumbledore and following reluctantly. The boy looked about nine or ten, had unruly black hair, stunning green eyes, and a pale complexion that enhanced his handsome exterior.

He looked sadly at the boy. "Harry?"

The kid nodded, his face looking pale and his eyes expressing his confusion and distress.

"You look just like your father, except your eyes, their brilliant emeralds, like your mother's," he managed to whisper in a soft voice, his heart clenching at his throat. He wanted to pick the boy up; the little baby that he had played with at Godric's Hollow. But he could not, he was a werewolf and he wouldn't dare even conceiving the notion that he had any right to be anything to the child, who for his age, looked so small and frail.

"Dumbledore handed him a corked vial. "This should sober you up. We need you of right mind tonight."

Lupin was curious as to why they had Harry Potter, staring steadily at the boy as if he was dream.

"Hagrid, take Harry to those tables over there," Dumbledore pointed to a corner far away from their current positions, "and get him something to eat."

"Yes, Dumbledore." Hagrid led Harry to his assigned position.

"Am I correct to assume you are wondering why we are here?" Dumbledore's eyebrows rose to his hairline, observing the man in front of him.

Remus nodded as he gulped down the bitter potion. The fogginess in his mind began to dissipate and the potion was sobering him up.

"That is a strong potion you got here, Dumbledore!" A chill ran down his spine and cooled his stomach. He handed the empty bottle back to Dumbledore and looked at him expectantly.

"Remus, I heard you come here every night."

"Well, then Hagrid has turned spy for you then? I will not be dishonest, I do come here everyday. But you know as well as I why I do so." He said the last with a bit of anger for his invasion of privacy. Now he was being watched?! Could he not live in misery alone?!

Dumbledore motioned for him to take a seat and he sat in the stool next to him. They did not look at each other as Remus ordered mugs of coffee for both of them.

"Remus, I am concerned for you. You have lost so much and have gained absolutely nothing. The Ministry further complicates your life, and I also know what you have been requesting for the past few years. I am trying my best to help in that situation, but my influence can only go so far. In the meantime, you seem to be losing yourself."

Remus was tired--tired of everything--and took a sip of the bitter liquid. "Dumbledore, can you please not pretend to know what I feel. I doubt you could ever grasp the concept. Can we get to why exactly Harry is in your care right now?"

"Fine, I will speak to you later about my first point. Harry ...Harry has suffered severe abuse. A week ago, he accidentally destroyed his guardian's house after they had nearly beaten him to death---"

"THEY WHAT," Remus roared, standing up abruptly. He was furious. "I TOLD YOU THE MUGGLES WERE NO GOOD!" In truth, that had been what he had said but he knew the blame didn't fall solely on Dumbledore.

"Remus, I will need you to keep your voice down, we can't let it get out that Harry is here." Dumbledore glanced around, but the pub was so full no one had heard.

Remus flung himself on his tool with a scowl and took to sipping fiercely from his cup. "Continue."

"By all rights, he should have been dead by the time he arrived at St. Mungos. I watched solemnly as they had to torture Harry in order to help him. Today, he finally woke up. Rest assured I gave Vernon a piece of my mind and he will also be prosecuted."

"How bad was he? He doesn't look like a victim to me. He seemed rather timid and reserved, but he didn't appear abused. I don't understand."

Dumbledore hands begun to shake as he held the cup to his lips. "He had gashes so deep we could see bones. Vernon beat him with a metal chain, punched him in the chest, and collapsed his ribcage. Harry even managed to stay conscious while his lung was punctured from his own fractured bone. Although, he has them covered, his body is scarred for life.

"There are also other marks on his body and bruising in his skeletal structure. This may not have been the only occurrence of physical torment. You should have seen him on that bed, he refused to cry out until the very end, when his body gave out. He was very brave."

"And, I too have wondered and am concerned with Harry's behavior. He almost acts as if nothing had ever happened. Its like he considers it routine, its sickening he could see beatings as routine, but this would be the truth. I fear we have not seen the last of this. Also, they may have verbally abused him as well. He tries hard no to show it with either humor or making his face void of emotion, but I can feel that is hurting something terrible. I believe he has been called names I myself dare not to repeat."

Remus' shoulders hung over, he wanted so badly another drink. He resisted the temptation to let the dam flow; instead, he put his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Why are you telling me this?"

Dumbledore let out a breath, "Because you should know about it. You are the only connection he has now. Maybe you could talk to him; you have had your hand at suffering I believe."

"That would be like the blind leading the blind. I don't even know how to cope with my own problems."

"Perhaps you could help each other."

Remus sat in silence for a while, just thinking.

They were interrupted by the push and shoves of chairs that announced Hagrid and Harry were making their way to them. Harry was starting to look a little tired. Now, it was half-past nine, and the youth let out a yawn. Hagrid deliberately stepped back from Harry so that Harry was nearer to Remus. No one noticed as Dumbledore too, stood up and crept to Hagrid.

Dumbledore spoke, "Well, we might see you in a little bit. Good luck."

"Ya too, Harry!" Hagrid waved at Harry as he deliberately took a large step back.

"What do you mean 'good luck? or by Harry too?" Remus squinted his eyes, knowing they were hiding something from him.

Dumbledore and Hagrid slipped indiscreetly into a crowd of wizards in the pub and were walking so fast they looked like they were sprinting. With one last backwards glance, they watched Remus try to run off after them.

"Hey! You're forgetting someone... you i accidentally /i left him here," Remus was almost pleading as he saw them reach the doors, he was still waiting for a large party of ten celebrating wizards to move out of the way, "Wait! I don't know what to do with a kid. I have no room or money!" Remus' once raised hand, that he had extended in a futile effort to somehow reach for them, dropped to his side. He turned around and walked to where he had come from. He looked at the door as if waiting for Dumbledore and Hagrid to return, announcing that it had been a joke.

Harry met his eyes as dazed and confused as him. He gave Remus a worried look, obviously apprehensive about something. He stood there looking at him and waiting for him to speak.

Remus rubbed his temples. He was too tired. He saw Harry's worried expression and assumed he was a bit cautious of him, probably because of his appearance. "Come on then, don't just stand there. You can follow me home and sleep there, but in the morning I will take you back to Dumbledore." He had said the words short and cut, feeling a bit offended that the boy didn't trust him. He disliked when people judged him by his cover.

Remus wasn't prepared for the stricken look that crossed Harry's features. He hadn't meant the words to hurt him.

"Okay, sir. Thank you. I understand… I know I can be a burden." Harry gazed off to the floor, his expression sullen.

The flash in Harry's face was barely visible because he quickly covered it up. Remus was disappointed in himself. After hearing of Harry's abuse, he knew he probably accustomed to being hurt. He came to the realization that his assumptions had been incorrect, Harry was apprehensive for himself. He most likely thought he was unworthy to receive or ask for anything.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to imply you were a burden. It's just that I ...have enough trouble taking care of myself, and I don't need Dumbledore making it harder for me. It was nothing meant for you personally, I have just had a hard day."

"It's okay, sir. I don't want to shove my company on you. I think I know my way back to the castle." With his face holding a strewn together mask of blankness, the boy lifted his chin and took a step away form Remus.

Remus reached for the boy's shoulder and was stricken when Harry flinched as if he had expected a blow. He tried not to let his sadness show at the thought, knowing it would only make matters worst. "Harry, really, I prefer you come with me than wander off in the dark And, I am positive Dumbledore won't open the gates or have his Floo working. Follow me; you know how to use the Floo? I usually Apparate but you are too young."

"Yes, I used one to get to Dumbledore's office." Harry flushed, remembering what an odd experience that had been.

"Good! Here," he put some powder in Harry's hand, "say 'Remus Lupin's flat'."

Harry dusted off his clothes after he had been thrown from the fireplace, coughing out a cloud of dust and soot from his airways. Remus appeared out of no where with a 'pop'.

Harry looked around the flat. It was definitely a bachelor pad. They were standing in a sitting room with a large and comfortable couch; a small kitchen was in the right corner, there was a tiny bathroom to his left, and a modest bedroom with a medium-sized bed. There was no attempt at decoration, any color co-ordination--only simple comfort and books lining the walls.

Remus saw Harry run his fingers through the bindings of several tomes on a large bookshelf.

"Do you read, Harry? I do quite a lot of reading myself, there's usually nothing better to do. It entertains me and I enjoy learning things I can eventually teach in the small tutor jobs I get." Remus sighed heavily. _Oh, no, I am blabbering on in my his nervousness. But what in the bloody hell am I supposed to say?_ Obviously, the child would be uncomfortable and too tired to speak about his childhood. Besides, he was sure, he himself wouldn't be able to help the kid.

Harry swallowed, sensing the man's discomfort and knowing it was his entire fault. "I read sometimes...unless they lock m-...I couldn't find the time." Harry strode over to a window and looked outside, his hands trembling slightly in fear that he would be abandoned. In case he was, he wanted to make sure he at least had a plan to get a way, like he had done with Dudley and his gang. They were in London. He could see the familiar London style buildings from the floor they were on. His heart was hammering in his chest ad pounding in his ears, he felt dizzy and light headed. To calm himself, he gazed at the sky and complacent stars. He loved to just gaze at the sight of the stars. He sometimes wished to be up there, to fly in the sky, to soar, be free, to feel his fingertips run through the clouds, to wash himself in the peace of the moon.

"What do you think of my flat?" Remus walked over to Harry and observed the view, his hands shoved in his pockets as he observed the youth from the corner of his eye.

After giving him a nervous glance, Harry bit his bottom lip, and said softly, "It's not bad at all. I think it's warm and comfortable."

They both turned to the window when they heard clicks on the pane.

Harry looked out the window in amazement; several owls were carrying a large parcel between them.

Remus smiled at him as he reached for the latches of the window, letting the birds into the living room. They settled on a small square table next to the kitchen. "In the wizarding world we use owls to deliver our post. They have an amazing sense of direction and can practically find any person you seek in record times."

"That's great!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, before blushing and looking down at his feet again. "The mailman in my neighborhood always mixes up everyone's post."

Remus nodded, trying to make his face appear neutral over the boy's discomfort, even though it was causing a dull ache to form in his heart. He turned and Harry followed him to the table and saw his name on the package. Remus opened the large box and handed a scroll to Harry, stowing another in his jacket pocket.

Harry watched the owls leave and unrolled the parchment. It read:

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm am very sorry we had to leave you like that. Know that we had now wished to abandon you at all. You are most delightful company. However, Remus Lupin would have been too reluctant to agree due to some of his circumstances. However, we feel Remus can be a perfect guardian for you, he was your parent's best friend after all, and I believe you should give him a chance. He is not used to caring for anyone else, or himself for that matter, so I hope you can help in that account. We will meet again in two days. I hope it works out. He really is a good person and he might need you more than he thinks. _

_In the box, I have enclosed some clothes, a key to your bank account vault, some Floo powder, toiletries, and several potions you are to bathe in for assurance the scars don't swell or the new tissues don't bruise and become tender. They come with instructions. You also have to apply the cream on your skin, especially, to those areas on your face that you can feel a strange prickling sensation in. Best of luck! _

_Yours truly, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. There might be some 'unhealthy' things under the kitchen sink he will need you to discard. Inform me immediately if any problems arise in that department._

Harry put the scroll on the top of the parcel and sifted through it. Arthur must have left him more clothes--pajamas, khaki trousers, a T-Shirt, boxers, and a long-sleeve gray shirt. There was a small velvet bag of Floo powder, and a couple vials of potions with scraps of parchment attached.

Remus prepared the pop-out bed in the sofa, while Harry was busy sifting through his things. "All set for bed?" the werewolf asked the shield, feeling so out of his element.

Harry closed the box and glanced over to Remus. "Yes, sir. I'm tired." He did feel very tired, and suspected that maybe some of his medicine had somehow made him drowsy.

"I'll sleep in the couch while you take my bed." Remus said as he carefully folded a sheet into a pillow.

"No, it's okay, you take the bed. I wouldn't feel comfortable throwing you out of your own room."

Remus frowned again. "Harry, I have to insist, you are a guest in my house."

"Really, I would feel comfortable on the sofa. It's already much better than the mattress I used to sleep on. Please?" Harry shuffled his feet, waiting for a response.

"Okay, then. If you are so set on it, I doubt I can change your mind." Remus walked into his room, "If you need anything at all just call me," He closed the door.

Harry smiled and watched Remus go into his room, a warm feeling encompassing his tummy. He grabbed a set of pajamas, bathed, and got ready for bed in the bathroom, falling easily into the best sleep he had ever had.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed and read his letter from Dumbledore. It detailed things he must do, a meeting in two days, and an apology for having to leave Harry in his care the way he had. Remus felt he should take Harry in for a few days, if Dumbledore had been desperate enough to put Harry under his care, then he really must not have anyone else. Maybe in a couple days another option would arise.

He folded the parchment and set it in his drawer. He threw himself on his bed, too many things had happened, he wondered if it was a dream he would wake up from in the morning. He stared off to his ceiling and thought of his best friend's son.

Harry was nothing like he had expected; his eyes carried a mature quality. It was rather sad, like he had been through too much to live and think like a child would. A normal child would never hide his feelings so well, they would subtly manipulate to get what they wanted. Harry did no such thing; it was like he knew the evil people were capable of and tried to keep the upper hand by not accepting things that would make him indebted to that person. He was polite and honest, a genuinely brave kid.

Remus fell asleep fully clothed and awoke early in the morning. He exited his room and went to wake up Harry to tell him of the plans for the day. He smelled something coming from the hardly-ever-used kitchen. That's when he saw Harry tending some eggs over the stove.

"Harry, what are you doing?!" He had startled Harry and had caught him before he fell off the small pile of books the youth was using as a stool. Remus grabbed the pan as if it was going to light on fire any second and Harry drew away into a corner.

Harry was breathing hard over the fright he had received. "I'm so sorry, sir. I was just cooking some breakfast, sir."

"Harry, you didn't have to do that. What if you had burned yourself? You can barely see the stove."

Looking terrified, the boy bit his lip and stared off onto the floor, a blush creeping up his neck. "I-I just thought that…that if you saw what I could do t-that…you wouldn't send me back. I-I'm sorry…I just forgot, sir."

Feeling terrible, Remus ran a hand over his hair and asked, "What did you forget?"

"That people my age don't cook, sir. I just didn't think…like always." Harry sighed and managed the courage to lift his chin up, a sad expression briefly crossing his face before he steeled himself. "I'm used to making breakfast every morning since the age of five. I guess I woke up and was afraid to do something different." He added "I'm sorry" again after Remus stood shocked in front of him.

Forcing himself to stay where he was, he asked calmly, "You cook everyday. Why?"

Harry looked up to make sure that the adult showed no signs of being angry, before quickly saying, "My Aunt and Uncle made me do the chores."

"They made the children, they are meant to take care of, cook in the such a dangerous place as the kitchen?"

"No, just me." Harry stepped out of the corner slowly, grabbing the omelets he had made with some things he had found in the fridge.

Remus furrowed his eyebrows, how could they make a five-year-old cook without supervision? Especially, when they didn't make their own son do it.

He noted the eggs smelled pretty good.

Harry looked for plates, checking under the sink. He pulled out a couple bottles of liquor. _Was this what Dumbledore had indicated to toss in the letter?_ He pulled out seven bottles of amber liquid in total. He looked up at Remus, who flushed. "These are no good for you you know?" Steeling himself to not show emotion that might make him seem vulnerable, Harry prepared himself for any blows. If Dumbledore had said something, he had to do it. He couldn't risk being sent back to the Dursleys no matter what.

Remus rubbed the back of his neck. "I just drink occasionally. They help me."

Harry frowned. "You don't need these," he picked up a couple of bottles and threw them into the trash bin, "people aren't very nice company when they're drunk. It solves absolutely nothing; it makes people irrational, and makes them...dangerous." He listed off the things on his small fingers. "I don't like it. My Uncle drank it and things would just get worse for me. The occasional cup isn't bad, but I hate it when people change because of it. Do you really have to drink this?"

Remus was speechless. It was like he was getting reprimanded by an adult. "Well, it's just...that…um...I ...I," Remus scratched the back of his neck nervously. "It calms me, and helps me after a bad day."

Harry crossed his arms after he had thrown the rest of the bottles away. He left only one. "When you have a bad day you can always have a cup of hot chocolate. That should be just as good." With a 'humph' he located the plates, dropped the omelets inside, grabbed two mugs, and filled one with coffee and the other with milk. He went to the table and sat himself down with an annoyed expression, inwardly wincing at what he had said and done.

Remus was dumbfounded, he had just been 'told' by a kid. Not only that, but he was left completely speechless. If he so much as tried to get the bottles or argue for himself, he would seem really foolish. The bottles would have to go. Hopefully, he would be able to keep his mind busy enough to avoid any undesirable flashbacks. He still couldn't believe Harry had managed to silence him.

His lips twitched into a smile.

He burst out in laughter, the first laugh he had ever had in years, clutching his stomach and rolling around. Only one person could have done the same thing to him---Lily. She had been quite the persona; she had had the skill to make him feel like such a complete idiot by only speaking the truth in her own way.

Harry looked over with a mouthful of eggs. He raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

Remus pulled himself off the floor and smiled reminiscently. "You are definitely your mother's son. She would do the same thing to me. I was always reduced to silence when she gave me speeches. Oh, I haven't had such a good laugh in many years," Remus' eyes brightened just a bit. "Thank you, Harry." He sat down in the seat opposite of Harry and took a bite of his eggs. "Wow! This is delicious. I should make you my personal chef."

Harry smiled widely. He had never gotten a compliment on his food before. The Dursleys had always seen a fault in it.

They finished their meals and Remus took the dishes just when Harry was going to reach for them. "It's my privilege to clean these after such a delicious meal."

Remus washed the dishes and left the already-dressed Harry to prepare himself. He came out of the bathroom to find Harry trying to brush his hair in front of a mirror on the wall. It was getting fairly long.

"You should probably get a haircut." He said, coming up behind the boy.

Harry directed his gaze to the floor, knowing that Remus probably hated his hair just like his aunt. He hated it too short and he didn't want to seem like a freak in front of someone who could be his future guardian.

"I actually do my own. I can do yours right now if you like. We wizards used our wands to cut hair."

Harry contemplated this but decided he could trust the man. The man's hair wasn't too bad. It looked clean cut and nice. "If you want to, sir," Harry said softly.

Remus dragged a stool over and slapped his hand on it to show Harry he was to sit there. Harry sat down. Remus conjured a hair cape to protect Harry's clothes, and he began to use his wand to cut away unruly locks.

He vanished the hair and observed his handy work. He had given Harry a wedge cut so that he could easily cover up his scar. He had seen Harry pushing his hair over it, and knew that he probably wasn't comfortable with the attention that came with the infamous scar. He finished vanishing the hair and swung the cape off of Harry.

"You're all done. Hop off and take a look."

Harry strode excitedly to the mirror and stared at himself in appreciation. "It's perfect. Thank you, sir!" It actually did feel nice.

"Hey, we have a working relationship; you are my chef and I am your barber." Remus chuckled. Harry laughed along with him.

Remus looked at his watch. "We should get going, we are going shopping. Come on, walk with me."

Harry followed Remus out the door and they started walking.

"Remember to be cautious of speaking about the wizarding world in front of Muggles. There is a Statute of Secrecy that is strictly enforced around the world. "

"Okay, sir."

They took a double-decker bus to Charing Cross Road. They approached a dodgy looking pub, and Harry gave nervous glances to Remus.

Remus smiled. "Don't worry; it looks that way for Muggles. It repels them and helps the wards from going under too much stress. Now stay close, we should stick together."

Harry was led inside the pub. There was a sign that read 'The Leaky Cauldron' hanging next to the door.

Remus waved at the bartender, "How are ya, Tom?"

"Fine as always. How about you, Remus? Here for a drink?"

"No, I actually have business to do today in Diagon Alley. I'm afraid I am just passing through today."

"Rain check?"

"Rain check."

They nodded at each other as Remus pushed Harry through the crowd. They approached a large brick wall.

"We just tap these stones here," he tapped his wand to a few stones in a pattern, "and it opens."

Harry stepped back when the bricks begun to shift and open up to reveal a majestic world that before that day had only existed in his fantasies. There were shops, vendors, whole families, kids playing.

The shops held an old quality that spoke of the pride of the wizarding world. Shops created in the Sixteenth Century still stood at their primal glory. It was magical- - for lack of a better word. They passed the cauldron shop, the 'Apothecary', 'Magical Instruments', and other shops. They stopped in front of a very large white marble building.

"This is Gringotts, the best wizarding bank in the world. It's run by goblins."

"Goblins?" Harry asked, curiosity peaking.

"They are the sneakiest, greediest, and most suspicious creatures you will ever encounter. They aren't the kindest thing out there either."

They approached burnished bronze doors. A goblin stood to their right wearing a scarlet and gold uniform. Two goblins held open a set of silver doors at the other side of the entrance chamber. Inside the main chamber, there was a counter with a hundreds of Goblins sitting on stools. They were counting, measuring, writing, and observing precious stones and coins. They approached a goblin.

Remus cleared his throat, "I request to be taken down to Harry Potter's vault."

The goblin looked at them suspiciously, "Key?" he stuck his clawed hand out.

Remus fumbled with getting the small key out of his pocket. "Here you go," he handed him the golden key.

"Why, Mr. Potter, you are a very auspicious person, aren't you, Mr. Potter?" The goblin offered him a humorless toothy grin.

Harry gave a confused expression.

"You will find out soon, from just seeing your temporary account, no doubt." The goblin handed the key to another goblin.

The other goblin spoke, "Follow me, my name is Griphook, I'll be taking you down to your vault today."

Before they knew it, they were going at amazing speeds on a railway cart. Harry held on to Remus' elbow, laughing with glee. They arrived and Harry was in good spirits. Remus ruffled his hair in a playful way when he helped him out of the car. Griphook shook his head and mumbled something that sounded like 'people' and opened the door with the key. The vault began to unseal and a series of bolts, locks, and wheels spun and revealed a round hole.

Harry and Remus stared in wonder. There were mountains of gold that filled the large room.

Harry walked over and picked up a golden coin. "So, wizarding money is different?"

"Yes, a galleon is worth roughly five pounds, for those tourist Americans, they pay ten dollars for a galleon. Then there is the bronze knut and silver sickle. A knut is equivalent to .01 pounds or two American cents. The sickle is worth about .29 pounds or fifty-seven U.S cents."

"I probably should remember that."

The goblin stood by the door. "Would you be needing a bottom-less money bag, sirs? It allows you to reach into your pouch for any amount you may need. It's a new feature we have added this year to minimize human interaction. Since you are a minor, it will accept the command of a trusted adult. No one but an adult you directly allow to touch your funds will be able to get anything from the bag. "

Harry nodded his head and was handed the bag.

Remus said, "Think of a galleon and reach into the bag, see what happens."

Harry did so and his hand enclosed a galleon. "It works!"

"That's good, now lets get out of here. The gold is blinding me." Remus indicated with his hands if Harry wanted to hold the money himself or if he should handle it.

Harry gave him the bag, glad he wouldn't have to keep track of it. "Mr.Lupin, Why--"

"Call me Remus, Lupin, Moony, Uncle Remus, or Uncle Lupin, but please don't call me 'Sir' or "Mr.'"

Okay, umm...," Harry smirked, "Uncle Moony, "

"Oi, that wasn't on the list," he chuckled, "I'll accept nonetheless. Its better than how you formally addressed me ."

"Well, Uncle Moony-Where did you get that name anyway?-.. wait, no, um... where did that money come from? I never owned anything. Aunt Petunia told me my dad was an unemployed drunk. "

"She did what exactly?! Harry, your father was an esteemed member of our society. He was well off, his parents left him a rather- -larger than I expected--inheritance. He was a brilliant at what he did and quite the powerful wizard. No better man or best friend out there." His expression darkened. "That woman is outrageous; she should hope we never cross paths. The things she has said to you were outlandish and based on her own hatred. And the things she did to you..--"

An alarming look crossed Harry's eyes. "Dumbledore told you what happened, didn't he?"

They had been transported down to the ground floor and Remus swung around to look down at Harry. "Yes, he did. He said he was taking care of them. Something about beating them up to a pulp."

The corners of Harry's mouth curved upwards.

"Harry, never feel---"

"Come on, Uncle Moony," Harry grabbed Lupin's robe before he could finish his sentence and dragged him to the street. He was avoiding it like a skillful practitioner.

"What are we here for today? I saw your fridge was kind of empty, we should work on that first."

Remus decided to let it go for now. He dropped the money bag into his coat pocket.

"Our first order of business it to get you some new clothes." They walked towards a shop across from Gambol and Japes Joke shop. The shop was called 'Apparel for the Fashionably Challenged'. Harry smirked at the name.

An attractive young clerk came up to them dressed in a Muggle outfit, she recited a greeting, "Welcome, we can help you dress you best when you're outside with non-magical guest."

"Thank you. I will be needing an entire wardrobe for Harry here," he pointed at Harry, "and we will likely need lots of help. I have absolutely no clue as to how to put an outfit together, I mostly keep to suits." He smiled kindly at the clerk, hands stuffed into his pockets.

The young blonde clerk smiled at him. "I can help you with everything. And, we can even get you a whole new set of clothes as well. Follow me; I'll take your measurements."

She took them to a platform in front of half a dozen mirrors. They were behind some privacy screens. She quickly measured Remus. She was quite the flirtatious one, if her hand roaming was any indication. They stayed a little long on some places to rule it out as accidental hand slips. He would cunningly shift to avoid making a painfully embarrassing scene. The clerk had yet to give any recognition of his attempts to deter her. She placed a lingering hand on his chest as she pushed off him with a seductive smile.

Then, she worked on Harry kindly. She did try to speak to him like she would to a two-year-old though. Which Remus had a mental laugh at, especially from the glances Harry was casting in his direction.

"Stick your little arms out. Oh, you know what? You should take off your shirts. I'll hand you a smaller one that I think would look cute on you, and it would make it easier for me to measure you."

Harry paled, "Do I have to take it off?" He gulped.

"That would be very helpful. The shirt is kind of big on your thin little body. So, in order to take the measurement correctly, I need to get the baggy shirts out of the way." She spoke to him encouragingly, thinking she was doing him a favor by removing his shyness of showing his adorable little chest in public.

Harry reluctantly nodded and unbuttoned the shirt in a languid manner. He was trembling slightly. He tossed the shirt aside, revealing his scarred torso. Where the deep gashes had been were bright pink and jagged scars, they showed brightly against his pale skin.

Remus blanched and held onto the chair, a morose expression appearing on his face. The clerk shrieked. Harry closed his eyes, embarrassed. He took the shirt the clerk had offered him and pulled it over his head as fast as he could. "It okay, I covered it up, you don't have to look at me. Can we get my clothes now?"

The clerk looked like she wanted to cry. "Yes, let... me go look... for them in the back."

Harry turned around and looked at Remus, who was clutching a chair, using it for support as he stared in the opposite direction.

"They don't hurt. I'm fine, sir." Harry grabbed Remus' sleeve and waited for him to turn around.

Remus was trembling. He thought he had heard Harry speaking. Since last night, Remus had thought that Dumbledore may have exaggerated the abuse. Now, he knew it wasn't the case. This kid had been through hell.

_How could James forgive me for not watching over his son? How could I send Harry away knowing this? _

Harry should be protected from him but how could he do it without pushing himself over the edge? Abandoning Harry was now going to be more difficult than he had thought. To make matters worse, the kid was calling him 'Uncle'. The words had escaped his lips when he had told Harry to call him something else.

Harry had somehow been so easy to like. He was getting closer to Harry faster than he could have imagined. He made him want to be a better person, gave him a will to live. He needed someone and Lupin was becoming that person. He didn't know if he could bear turning his back on him. He felt a tug on his arm and turned to look into Harry's sad eyes.

"Harry?"

Harry let go and looked at the array of clothes on the wall wistfully. "This is my first time getting clothes of my own, ones that will actually fit." He admitted as pain swept through his chest and he refused to let his eyes water. He knew he was an ugly freak anyway, what was the point?

Remus didn't know what to say, but was saved by the clerk coming out with a pile of clothes in her arms. Her eyes held a sheen of wetness. She set the clothes on a rod next to the dressing screens.

"Here you go, Harry. I arranged the clothes together in outfits. Just put them on, and let me see how it looks."

"Thank you." Harry went behind the screen and begun to change.

"Sir, can I speak to you," she motioned to Remus, "I feel compelled to ask about those scars. I hope you have nothing to do with them."

He was taken aback; he hadn't expected to be questioned about it. He did see why she had a reason to ask him. "The child just came into my care last night. He was hurt by his last guardians."

The clerk nodded her head, "I just had to make sure. You don't seem like the type of person to do such a thing. I admire you for taking him into your care."

Remus shrugged. "He's a good kid."

Harry came out with pair of jeans and a flannel button-up. The clothes seemed to fit his frame perfectly.

He tried on many more outfits after that and Remus and Harry came out of the store, three hours later, with a 'thank you', and a dozen bags. The clerk seemed a bit disappointed Remus had never asked her out, Remus just shook his head amusingly.

_She'd get over it!_ Harry had even coaxed Remus to get himself some more casual clothes. He got jeans, trousers, sweaters, and even some T-shirts.

"Let me take care of these." He waved his wand over the bags and all of them disappeared.

"What happened to them?" Harry stared curiously at where the bags had been.

"I sent them back to the flat so that we wouldn't have to carry them. Where do you want to go next? Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I am starved. Is there anything yummy to eat around here?"

"I know of a couple places with delicious food. Before we do that, you want to take a quick look at the pet shop while we are here?"

"Sure!" Harry nearly ran to the pet shop, excited to see if wizarding animals were nay different than normal ones.

They entered a pet shop named 'Magical Menagerie'. The sounds of animals quaking, barking, mewing, roaring, and screeching were almost overwhelming. Cages lined the walls and a witch wearing heavy black framed spectacles was standing near the counter. There were snails that changed colors, a rabbit that changed into a top hat, different types of birds, tortoises with jewel encrusted shells, cats, and a glass cage of snakes.

Remus watched as Harry froze in front of the snakes, the color drained from his face, his shoulders sagged.

"Harry, are you okay?"

Harry's expression altered to somber. It gave him the painful appearance of mental tension. Tears fell down his cheeks, unnoticed by their owner. He was completely still, frozen in place.

Remus was getting worried; he came up beside Harry and was going to shake him, when Harry bolted from the shop.

Harry was quivering; he paused in front of Gringotts, holding a marble column.

It had been unbearable to see the snakes. His first reaction had been to run as fast as he could away from them. His body had had different ideas. It had refused to respond to him, his brain kept replaying the scene from the playground. Instead of anger, he had felt self-loathing.

He had failed the snake he had grown fond of, reduced to groveling and begging for its life. It had been his fault. If he hadn't come into contact with it--it would still be alive. It had been too easy to forget about it, too easy to lock away his pain and throw away the key. He felt like a betrayer.

An animal--a snake, had been the closest thing to a friend he had ever come to. He had been too weak to stop the attack, he had not been sufficient to spare its life, and it had been he who they had wanted to torment in the first place. He had heard it inside the bag, calling for him, hissing his name; it had been so scared.

Now, things were happening so fast it was almost like his life before had not been real, like this was where he had always belonged. He thought he could forget- -forget what he had gone through; however, his past was part of him. It would haunt him forever and if he abandoned it, and pretended like it had never happened...he would abandon himself in the process.

In essence, he could lose himself, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never escape the tormented little boy he really was. He had for as long as possible, but in the end, he couldn't hide from himself. He could not hide from what he had been through, and how each experience had changed him.

He would not let others see him though. He hated pity; pity was worthless, because in the end, the pain in his heart would still be there. No matter which way he looked at it, the five-year old that had learned that evil existed even without magic would still be a part of him. He wasn't even sure why he hid his experiences--he felt safer to forget about them, less vulnerable. Maybe if he lay his heart out it would just be crushed? He had no way of knowing.

But for now, he had to be content with the situation and trust that Remus would spare him the hurt of rejection. Hopefully, lend him a hand while he felt like he was drowning in a well of his own locked memories. Needless to say, it was getting a bit dark behind the walls he had learned to create around himself.

Remus was looking frantically for Harry, before he spotted him in front of Gringotts. "Harry! Harry! What happened?!" He shook his shoulder but Harry refused to meet his eyes, he had tensed at Remus's touch. Remus crouched next to Harry and lifted his chin with a sad look on his own face. The hurt expression on Harry's features scared him. For the first time since he had met him, Harry looked like a frightened little boy.

"Harry look at my eyes? What's wrong?"

Harry did not look at him. He was trembling like a leave and he shrugged off Remus' touch. He walked forward aimlessly. Remus grabbed his arm and Harry struggled to pull away. "Harry, Stop it! You're scaring me."

Harry seemed to wake up a bit and he plastered a smile on his pallid face. "Hey Uncle Remus, I think we should go eat something. I'm hungry."

"Absolutely not, Harry. We are going to discuss what happened. You can't do that. Trust me; I have had my share in masking my feelings."

Harry's face fell, "I just spaced out. I'm fine."

The face Harry cast in his direction was so full of sadness it tore at his heart. "No, that was not 'nothing'. We need to talk about it. You can't do this to yourself, I won't let you. I have done what you're doing so many times that I can recognize it from a mile away."

"I 'm not feeling anything, I'm really okay. No need to worry about me." Harry's eyes were looking anywhere but him. When Remus did catch a glimpse at them, it was like the deep emerald pools were begging for help. The boy's bottom lip was trembling with the rest of his body and his eyes watered.

Remus kneeled beside Harry, holding his shoulder. "Stop it! Harry, it's okay to cry, you don't have to brave this out. There are things we feel that need escape or they tear at our souls and never leave us alone."

Harry started to cry in earnest and shake his head. He screamed and pummeled Remus's chest with soft punches. "I AM NOT HURTING---I AM---OKAY--I LIVE LIKE I HAVE BEEN--I--I-CAN DO THIS-----ITS ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS---I-I--"

"It's okay." Remus grabbed Harry's arms and pulled him into a tight embrace, his head fell on his shoulder and he cried uncontrollably. Remus picked Harry up, his arms hugging the small boy to his chest. Harry's legs wrapped around his waist like any child would have an instinct to. His sobs left pangs of pain on Remus's heart as the child managed to loosen his own carefully constructed human barriers. Suddenly, pushing people away, was not as important as soothing the kid before him.

Harry was speaking as Remus was shushing him to calm him. "I was so scared...I...thought...I was gonna die. Part of me ...wanted ...it. I ...they killed him...my friend...because they hated me...why did ...they hate...me?...It hurt so much...they killed him...because...he made me... happy. How could they...murder to... destroy my happiness?...He was mine...mine...my snake...they killed him and I just watched...I didn't...save him...I let him down...I can't ...be happy...betraying him...I don't deserve anything...I wanted to die!...I wanted it ...but I couldn't...I...thought I deserved it...thought…I could forget and be better...I didn't mean to forget him...oh' why did they hate me? ...What did I do? Maybe my parents...hated me too? I lived... maybe that was my fault too... maybe no one can help but to hate me." He cried for everything. He cried for years of hate directed towards him, for things he would never have, a childhood he could never enjoy, abuse that had stained him, and for all the hurt he would never recover from.

At one point, Remus had begun crying with him. He described his own pain so completely. He had wanted to die; he had thought that he hadn't deserved to live. It was heart breaking that young Harry could feel just like him. They shook until Harry's sobs began to subside. He put Harry on his own feet, wiped his wet cheeks, giving him a comforting smile and pulling him into a fatherly embrace. They held each other for whole minutes, drawing comfort and fulfilling their instinct to be near someone after such emotional exhaustion.

"Harry, I ...you have described my own pain so completely...I don't even know what to say...I can tell you it wasn't your fault. Your parents loved you so much. Your father and mother had been so excited to welcome you into the world. We were all there in the hospital room, and you know what James said when you were born?"

Harry shook his head, sniffling.

"I saw James do something I had never seen him do before, he cried and kissed you. He just couldn't believe that he would love anyone so much. Just by watching him you could tell he was so proud to see you grow up. He would love to hold you and carry you around for hours like a trophy. You meant the world to him. He would practically throw a celebration when you did something new, bouncing you on his knee and making you laugh."

"Your mother was wonderful with you; she could predict within seconds what you would cry for next. Lily said you were the love of her life. She would just stare at you for hours, watching you sleep or singing to you. The expression on her face when she thought of you or talked about something new you had done was amazing. You could see her love for you radiating off her eyes and it was like the whole world came together."

"We all loved you, Harry. You just never got to know it. So, don't you ever for a second think you deserved to be hated. You are the greatest kid I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. In one day, you have made me happier than I have ever been in years. Don't ever blame yourself for anything! As for the death of an animal, it is preposterous to think that was your fault. You couldn't have done anything! If someone maliciously took its life just to spite you then it was their fault completely."

Harry looked at him in the eye. "My parents really though that? I don't remember..."

"Well they did, don't you ever doubt that. And don't beat yourself up over not remembering, you were just a baby."

Harry nodded and sniffled. He still had a solemn expression, but he was recovering his bearings.

Remus ruffled his hair. "Harry, if there is ever anything you need to talk about, or even if you don't want to talk, I want you to know you can come to me."

Harry nodded his head. His stomach growled and he couldn't help but smile

Remus smiled back and stood up. "Let's get you something to eat. We can get some food to-go, and eat it at my favorite spot. It's a secret hideout...I suppose I can share it with you." He sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll think about it..."

Harry smiled and laughed "Where is it?! You can't just tell me about it and not reveal it. That's too mean!!" He playfully jumped on Remus's back and reached for his mouth as if to pry the secret away from his lips.

Remus laughed and swung Harry around. He conjured a white flag and waved it. "I surrender my secrets to Harry James Potter. He is just too cunning to keep anything from. Oh' you will be the end of me." He feigned a faint and pretended to be falling over on Harry.

Harry was roaring with laughter as he tried to push him off with his feet. Remus swung around, grabbed him by his ankles, and pulled him onto his shoulders.

He pretended he didn't know where Harry was. "Harry! Harry! Where have you gone? What would Dumbledore do to me? Oh' no!"

Harry gave him an annoyed look, accompanied with a wide smile. He put his small hands over Remus's eyes. "Uncle Moony, I'm up here remember! You must have gone completely blind, maybe you need glasses. Not to worry I'll be your eyes from up here."

"Thank you, Harry," he pretended to wipe an imaginary bead of sweat from his brow. "What could I do without you? Oh' yeah...I could run!" Remus began to run around the crowd, Harry screaming happily where he should turn. Harry opened his fingers to avoid any crashes but he continued to shout out directions as Remus galloped. They came to a stop in front of a café. Remus lifted him off his shoulders.

"We have arrived. I, your valiant steed, shall accompany his majesty inside."

Harry laughed and they entered the small shop. They came out with a paper bag full of sandwiches, biscuits, fruits, and juice.

"Let's be on our way then." They exited Diagon Alley and reached a park not far from the flat. "Come along this way." They walked to a secluded hill in the park. Harry doubted anyone else ever found the place because there were trees and underbrush covering the path. It was a hill and when they neared, Harry's eyes brightened; it offered a skyline view of the entire city.

"This is great!"

"Isn't it perfect? I come here and watch the sunsets sometimes. This place helps me gather my thoughts."

They ate in silence and watched the sun disappear. They lay down on blankets Remus had conjured and watched the stars. Remus begun to point out all the constellations, and Harry listened to the stories behind each one with interest. After hours, Remus looked over at Harry and noticed that the nine-year-old had fallen asleep with such a peaceful expression that he did not want to wake him. His little eye lids that hid his haunted emerald eyes were closed, his little mouth was slightly open, making him appear so frail and vulnerable.

He carried him, wrapped in the blankets, all the way back to his flat, taking off his shoes, and putting him to bed. He petted his hair tenderly. "Sweet dreams," he whispered, and walked to his room. He lay on his own bed and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Harry woke up at the crack of dawn and went to the bathroom to get ready. He got out of the bathroom adorning brand new jeans, and a long-sleeve cotton shirt with a rugby team logo and number. He was surprised to find Remus already cooking breakfast and whistling an unrecognizable tune.

Remus, too, had decided to wear a new comfy sweater and some jeans.

"Ah, you're ready! I made my classic flapjacks. I hope you love them." He served the plates and Harry took a bite.

"These are delicious. I didn't think you could cook, sir."

"Well, I have usually lived on my own, so I learned how to cook from books. Usually, I don't feel like preparing things for only myself, so I eat meals at a pub. But, I have been known to cook quite well. So you might just have a bit of competition."

"Keep dreaming, Uncle Moony," Harry answered smugly. "So what are we doing today?"

"We are going to go shopping, fill this place up until its overflowing with food, and cook all day-- a banquet fit for kings."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"We are taking the Floo to a wizarding marketplace in Hastings. That way we won't have to go back to Diagon Alley to exchange some gold into Muggle money."

"Okay."

They finished their meals and took the Floo to the marketplace. Harry looked around. The place would have looked like a normal Muggle market if it hadn't been for the shelves of wood, stone floor, and a distinct rustic feel. It had several potion isles, cauldrons, and there were employees walking around, putting spells on the food to preserve it, freeze it, and wrap it. They drove a wooden cart that the store had held near the front.

Remus drove the cart as Harry begun to put things in for their meal. Harry's eyes widened at a sign that read ' live chickens here, take em' alive or ready to cook'.

"So, you want a live one?"

Harry stared at him. "Are you crazy! Do they have an option for every animal? I think I like the Muggle stores better. The less natural way seems best."

Remus chuckled. "So, freezing charmed food only?"

"Yes, except for the veggies and fruits. Those should always be fresh." Harry said thoughtfully, a grin making a brief appearance on his happy face.

"Ah, no junk food?" Remus whined.

"None whatsoever. Maybe cereal," he conceded as Remus pouted.

Remus put on a show of cheering like a child would and ran off to get it. He proudly displayed a box in his hands like a trophy. "Their best 'Wizarding Frusbies', a cereal coated in a heavy layer of fine chocolate."

Harry shook his head amusingly. Those will rot your teeth right out!"

"Wizards don't have those sorts of problems!" Remus stuck his tongue out, continuing with his act.

"They don't?"

Remus nodded his head.

"Get some more, Hurry!" Harry was excited and started to toss all sorts of sugar-loaded food-- bakery items of biscuits, donuts, and cakes.

Remus observed as Harry grabbed a tin of Danish Biscuits, his eyebrow rose. "What happened to health?"

"It went out the window in an instant!" Harry jumped on the balls of his feet, grinning madly.

After filling the entire cart with food that would last a giant a year, they went to the front counters and paid a whopping forty galleons. Remus whistled at the price as he sent the things home.

"Ready to go, Harry?"

"Let's get to cooking! Chef Harry is ready to get to work!" Remus chuckled and they took the Floo back.

"So, what are we making?"

"Yorkshire pudding and roast beef. Plus, I was thinking of making treacle tart."

"Sounds good, I second the vote for treacle tart."

Remus set to work on the roast beef and Harry made the batter for the Yorkshire pudding.

Remus looked in a recipe book for the ingredients for the treacle tart, it read:

_shortcrust pastry_

_golden syrup_

_fresh white breadcrumbs_

_grated rind and juice of 1 lemon_

_ground ginger_

_egg wash _

"Come on, Harry lets cook this first."

They set to work on the dessert and were immediately covered in flour. They flung the flour at each other like a food fight. They were stark white and laughing as they put the treat in the oven.

Remus looked at Harry, accusing him for flinging flour all over him.

"Oh' uh uh, don't look at me like that. You started it!"

Remus smirked. "Did not!" he complained.

They were lost in their conversation and did not notice Dumbledore's face in the fire.

Dumbledore decided to let himself in completely when he saw the two flinging more flour at each other playfully.

Picking Harry up, Remus started to tickle the youth on the counter. Harry was laughing and dust clouds were forming as his clothes were patted. "See, you made this mess. You're lucky I have my wand, boy!"

Dumbledore smiled and watched them. Harry saw him and waved between struggling to breath through the tickling. Remus saw Harry waving and turned around, putting Harry on his feet.

"Harry, gather your things together," Dumbledore spoke lightly and made a point of winking at Harry. "Remus is obviously miserable with you in his presence. I would not torture him with another day. He pleaded and wanted to run after us in the pub and we should have spared him all the horrible things he has had to endure. Please, Harry, get your things quickly before I am attacked for my terrible judgment."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny!" he spoke with a voice void of humor.

"Can I assume this arrangement was perfect and that you will take guardianship of Harry?"

Remus huffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I have thought about it, but there are things that concern me."

"Like your moon problem?" Dumbledore asked as if it was of no matter, or great concern.

"Exactly that!" The werewolf looked absolutely exasperated that the headmaster would even think to treat his condition as something so trivial.

Harry stared at them curiously. "Moon problem?"

Dumbledore looked at Remus, raising his silver eyebrows. "You should tell him, Remus."

Remus sighed and slowly turned to face Harry, his shoulders hunched and his expression somber. "I am a werewolf." His breath hitched and he prepared his mind to be rejected.

Harry thought for a moment. _A werewolf? Those were real?_ _But, he doesn't seem any different. _I mean, he had just spent an entire day with the kind man and they were somewhat becoming friends. He made his mind up when he peered into the werewolf's eyes and couldn't see anything but the man that had just spent hours with him laughing or the first person to ever soothe him when he had cried. He could trust them; he wouldn't have to be hurt anymore. No missed meals, cupboards, or blows that crippled him. He would no longer have to spend his birthdays or Christmas by himself. As he imagined how his life would change, his heart leapt for joy and he couldn't help but grin. "It only happens during a full moon. The rest of the year you're you, right?" Harry's eyes were shinning with longing.

Remus released a shaky breath. "Every full moon, I turn into a werewolf. If I bite anyone, they would become infected as well. That's just something we can't have because werewolves are instinctively violent predators, and retain no rational thoughts of who they are when they are transformed naturally. I can be very dangerous and I'm not sure I'm willing to put you into that type of perilous situation, Harry. I couldn't bear to see you get hurt."

Trembling, Harry's face fell. "Please, Moony." His eyes welled up in tears, desperation lining his face and making it painful for Remus to breathe. Dumbledore had turned his back on them to give them their privacy. "There's no one else. Please, I'll be good. I don't care that you'll be gone once a month. I don't want to be alone ever again. Please…" A tear came down his cheek and Remus resisted the urge to wipe it away and gather the child into his arms.

Closing his eyes to stop himself from watching the little boy fall apart in front of him, Remus buried his hands into his pockets so deep that his knuckles hurt. When he spoke, he tried to convey reason, steeling his face to show blank. "Harry, it's not that easy. The transformations are painful and take a lot out of me. How can I take care of you if I'm too weak to stand? Sometimes I can't even conjure up the strength to be up and around for a few days."

Harry grabbed his arm, causing Remus to relieve it from the torture in his pocket. "I'll help make you better. Just don't send me away…please." His large emerald eyes had shifted to the werewolf's own, pleading with his tiny voice just above a whisper.

Remus raised his eyebrows, still unsure of the dangers involved. Could he do it? Could he break a young boy's heart and abandon him just like everyone else had done? Then it hit him, he would not make it if he destroyed the boy in front of him—he could never forgive himself. This was his chance to make a wrong… right again. "You don't see me...differently?"

"No," came the soft words that sent Remus' heart to rejoice.

With a teary sigh, Remus nodded and Harry smiled, snaking his arms around his new guardian's waist. He was about to pull back, not meaning to hold it that long because it felt strange to him, but Remus pulled him closer and Harry felt his world come together. He held back the tears, wanting to be strong, and swallowed the lump in his throat. Harry Potter was in fact worth loving, and the thought that someone could ever care for him warmed him all the way down to the toes.

Dumbledore chuckled, "Well…Remus, Have you made your choice? You have gotten closer than I could have ever imagined. Oh yes, my logic was brilliant in this one."

Smiling and gazing down at the boy embracing him, Remus Lupin answered softly, "This is my choice, Albus. This is the right choice."

Dumbledore smiled, his light-blue eyes twinkling. He handed the werewolf a normal looking watch with a faint glowing rim. It told time but in the center was a small box with a date marker, next to the date was a tiny illuminating picture of a moon. "The small moon glows brighter as a full moon approaches and shows the date of the actual occurrence. To further assure you don't miss the warnings, I have placed a charm that will emit a sharp beeping sound; it will alarm you that you have four minutes to lock yourself away. I will give you more bottles of Wolfsbane potion, and you can go to your usual place. Harry will go to the Weasley's residence for those times. They are more than ecstatic about the arrangement"

"And the legality of me becoming the guardian?"

"Already taken care of." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, if possible, even brighter. "Anything else?"

"You seem to have all the bases covered on this one, Albus. How did you know I would be willing to be his guardian?"

"Ah, he is Harry Potter. I had faith he could convince you. Did he discard of the bottles under the sink?"

"First day here, "Remus answered, "first time in years I was left completely speechless." He grinned down at Harry as the boy pulled away with a sheepish expression.

They chuckled.

"Harry, do you mind if I take your new guardian outside for a little chat? I trust you to take care of the food. We won't be long, I promise."

"Sure, Mr. Dumbledore. I've done it loads of times before. Do you want to stay and eat?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "I think I will accept your offer. The aroma is delightful!"

Harry smiled at Dumbledore and watched the men go outside to the balcony.

Remus leaned over the railing, a small smile playing on his face, his eyes bright and alive.

Dumbledore came up next to him and put his hands on the railing, admiring the view.

"You have done an admirable job, Remus."

Remus looked at him, "I don't know how it happened; I just kind of instinctively knew what to do. You should have seen him the first day, he was suffering so much."

"Did his wall collapse?"

"Not at first. He had it so perfectly constructed around himself. I broke it down and he collapsed. He cried for so long... He looked like a child for the first time."

"Masking his feelings and coping is all he has ever known. I don't think any amount of love will ever change that. I believe, that with time, he can learn to deal with it a little better. What did he tell you?"

A calming wind blew at them, encouraging a serene feeling within their hearts.

"He froze in front of a tank of snakes, he started to cry, and when I touched him, he made a run for it. I was terrified that he would get hurt or lost. Thank Merlin I found him, and he shrunk from my touch. He even tried to talk like nothing had happened. He fought me and started to scream before he fell into my arms into a fit of tears. Do you have any idea how it feels like to be told by a child that he had wanted to die? He blamed himself for everything and said he deserved to be hated. He was so lost." Remus left a stray tear trickle down his cheek.

Dumbledore wore a pained expression, "Remus, he needs you to be his family."

"I don't know how to do that. All my life I have told myself I would never do this. And here I am, plunging head first into this. Is it really worth the risk? I have only been with him for two days and it feels like he has always been a part of me. I wake up each morning doing something I never thought I'd do. I smile for no reason at all; I just smile because I know that he will be there. I know that he will have a cheery expression on his face, and that I would have put it on there."

"Remus, this is a once in a lifetime chance you were never willing to give yourself. Maybe it was destiny all along that brought this child here to save you. "

Remus sighed, "I don't think I could have made it another year with the way I was going."

"I know that's fact."

"I am still concerned about him, he is Harry Potter and I know that as soon as they find out about him the media will go into frenzy. What if they publicize my 'problem'?"

"I let slip from the records that you suffered from Lycanthropy. A friend of mine and I made a magical contract that makes it impossible for the Ministry to revoke your guardianship no matter what they uncover. "

"What about safety? This flat is not even remotely safe. If there is anyone out there wishing to do him harm we would be powerless to stop him. I'm not even sure Harry even grasps the concept of how many people want to do him harm."

"I will need your help to look at several Potter property deeds. Did you know how wealthy your friend was?"

"Yes, I suppose I did. James never bragged about it, but I visited the manor a lot and I know that the Potters left him a huge inheritance when they passed."

"Oh, I believe it is more than we can imagine. How did Harry react to the gold?" The Headmaster was hungry for any information he could get Harry. The way he would react to new things would say a lot about his character. After leaving Harry in a hostile environment, he felt it his duty to see how much damage was irreparable in the boy.

"He was amazed at the sheer amount, but he seemed glad to give me control over it. He is apathetic about it. I don't believe he holds money in any regard. He gets what he needs, doesn't even indulge in getting anything for himself, even though the boy could probably afford anything he wanted. I didn't even hear a mention of desiring to buy toys or anything in that matter. I was surprised, to tell you the truth."

"Gold is almost worthless in his eyes. To Harry, love is gold. "

Remus looked at him with a smile on his face. "Thank you Dumbledore- - for having him save me when I needed it most."

"Please don't thank me. I am just trying to correct one of my most terrible wrongs." Dumbledore sighed heavily and grazed his hand over the metal railing.

"It wasn't just you who thought he would be safer there. And if you are blaming yourself, I don't remember doing much about it either. To tell you the truth, I let my insecurities blind me and convinced myself to keep my distance."

Dumbledore gave him a small smile. "You were always one of my favorite students, Remus."

Remus chuckled. "Why? I was a terrible prefect. I couldn't even keep my own friends in line!"

"That's where Lily Evans came in. That wasn't your job."

They laughed at the truth of the statement.

"Let's head back inside. We now have someone to keep company."

Remus nodded his head and they entered the flat. "Just promise me that if the kid asks for advice, that I can send him straight to you."

"I will make no such promise, my dear boy. The parenting undoubtedly falls into your hands."

Grimacing, Remus groaned and proceeded to enter the flat as the headmaster chuckled lightly.

_**A/N: Review please!!!!**_


	7. Christmas and Questions

**Disclaimer:** JK's world…obviously. sigh

**A/N**: Some people were asking about Sirius and I just wanted to inform you that his appearance will come in ch.11 and 9. So, don't fret, we won't wait till third year! Please review! This is the first story I have ever written so please tell me what you think. Just to let you know, this story is mainly a general fic. It will have the whole Remus taking care of Harry thing, but that won't be the only focus. I plan to go into other pairings and such and into Harry's life basically. I just got frustrated that they only let you pick two characters. I mean, we're dealing with the Harry Potter series, that's like asking JK which is the only pairing in the book! Impossible. Am I right? So…I might change it depending on a series of chapters and what their focus is? Is that possible? I'll stop rambling, just read. lol

**Christmas and Questions**

Ginny stood on a chair, peering out the window in the sitting room. Her brother, Ron, was trying to hide his rocketing excitement, fidgeting on the chair next to Ginny's, and stealing glances at the window. Ginny rolled her eyes at her big brother, who was now losing his facade and practically had his nose against the pane.

Their parents hadn't been exactly clear on the reason, but Harry Potter was coming in just a few hours to stay for the night. They had been disappointed when he had gone to spend the night at Hogwarts in November when he had been supposed to come. Today, however, was special; it was Christmas Eve and her brothers had come home from Hogwarts and their jobs.

Fred and George got on her nerves sometimes, but they were usually fun and didn't treat her like she was three; Percy, on the other hand, treated her like she needed to be bottle fed. She couldn't say Bill and Charlie were much better. She loved them all the same though, Charlie in particular. He would always hold a special place in her heart; he tried to comfort her and protect her in the sweetest brotherly way. When she had nightmares, Charlie would always be there at the foot of the bed in an instant, waiting to comfort her. She had this perfect image of her brother, always there for her no matter what. Bill was almost like a second father figure in some respect, she saw him as someone wise and so courageous that she always knew he had her back if she ever had a problem. Percy, however, was a different story altogether. He was so uptight and tried to be so proper - - it was annoying, but he was her brother nonetheless. She was close to Ron because of their ages, but lately, he seemed to be drifting away from her. She wasn't sure why, she hated the new distance. Her mother had told her it was natural, that she should give Ron some space, the advice left Ginny sad in a way. 

"Don't even think about it, you two!" Ginny didn't even have to turn around to know her brothers Fred and George had been sneaking up behind her with a water balloon.

"Ah', Gin---"

"How did you know ----"

"It was me and George?"

Ginny smirked, "Because I'm smarter than the lot of you put together. I don't care if you're in your first year at Hogwarts; I've always avoided your little pranks. Even if you two have pranked me before, I always get my payback!"

The twins looked at each other, agreeing on the blatant truth of her declaration. "Hey, Ginny, want to go give Bill, Charlie, and Percy--"

"--a special wake-up call?"

Ron kept his arms on the windowsill and continued to stare out of the window as he snorted. "Mum said that Bill and Charlie got in late last night. She told us not to bother them, or we would have to answer to her."

Ginny smirked. "Ron! Why did you tell them? I made a bet with Daddy on whether they lose four presents together or each."

Fred and George both held horrified expressions.

Ron started to chuckle but eventually it turned into outright laughter. "You should have told me! I would have wanted in."

The twins gave them dirty looks before stalking back to their room, probably for an hour-long planning of their payback for even trying to bet on their nightmarish loss of presents.

"Ginny, you started them up again!" Ron was smiling at her.

Ginny held a mischievous glint in her eyes and turned to her prior 'staring out the window' past time.

"Ginny, do you think he will be nice?" Ron asked as he bit nibbled on his bottom lip

"Yes! We already met him once at the hospital."

Ron nodded then knitted his eyebrows. "Why was he at the hospital, anyway?"

She shrugged. "Daddy never told me. He seemed sad about it. Maybe something happened to the people taking care of him."

"I don't know, all he said to us was that there was someone he had promised to introduce to us. We didn't even know we were going to St. Mungos."

"What did you think of him, Ron?" Ginny knew exactly what she had first thought. Harry was really cute. His eyes had mesmerized her with the bright emerald hues. His raven dark hair was all messy, but it just added to the warmth she had received in the pit of her stomach because of him. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, but she really wanted her and Harry to become good friends. Something about him just captivated her. She had felt so shy when she had greeted him, which was strange because she was the type of girl who would greet a perfect stranger and depart from that person as their new best friend. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was constantly read his story? Perhaps it was the fact that she had always promised herself, after being told his sad tale, that she would help him if he was unhappy, that it was her duty to do so?

Ron gave a noncommittal shrug. "We only saw him for a few minutes. He seemed okay to me. He was nice when he said 'Hi'."

"The way he looked at Mum was funny, I felt a little sorry for him. He was being smothered." Ginny giggled and turned her gaze to the window again, before looking serious and saying, "I don't believe that story anymore."

Frowning, Ron admitted, "I never believed the 'arriving on a dragon' rubbish, but we don't really know him. Maybe he has lived in a giant castle!"

Ginny peered down at her hands sadly. "He didn't seem too happy; when we met him, his eyes seemed sad for a moment. He looked kind of lonely."

Ron's eyes swiveled towards her in confusion. "I didn't see anything."

"No surprise there! You usually don't care much about what other people are feeling." Ginny frowned and poked her brother in the arm.

"Hey! I do to!" Ron pouted and poked her back.

"Prove it," she said poking him in the chest this time.

He poked her back after wincing. "I will! You just wait!"

She poked him again in the ribs. "I'll be a thousand years old by then, Ron!"

They had started a full-blown poking war within minutes. When the 'ouches' got loud enough, they heard someone coming from the kitchen.

Molly came out of the kitchen, hands on her hips. "Will you two behave yourselves, we have a guest coming, and I expect you two on your best behavior. Be kind to pass that on to the twins. Absolutely no pranks today, understood?"

"Yes, Mum!" they said in chorus.

"Mum, did the twins really meet Harry Potter at Hogwarts?" Ron wasn't sure anymore when to believe his two older brothers.

"Why don't you ask Harry when he's here? It would open an entire conversation on the puzzle that is your twin brothers. They had once told them that if he held a toad between two hands and sang a rendition of 'Jolly old Hippogriffs' while on the roof, that his clothing would turn to gold. Needless to say, his mum had found out and they had been grounded an entire week for the incident.

Ginny smiled and said, "Great idea, Mum!"

She and Ron went to stare out the window again.

Molly frowned. "Stay there long enough and you'll start to wrinkle before you know it."

They laughed.

"Now, I'm going to head back to preparing dinner. I already have the honey ham roasting over the fire. Will you two be good?"

"Yeah, Mum," Ginny mumbled distractedly.

Ron nodded and replied a short, "Ya."

Molly shook her head at the twins bragging to their siblings after she had told them to keep quiet to everyone of meeting him. Dumbledore had warned them that, right now, it was crucial that Harry remain invisible to the world. The respected headmaster had come by a few nights ago and set extra wards on their home. He had told them that in November, Harry had stayed with him because he had been so focused on securing stronger wards on Harry's temporary residence, that he had naturally not had the time to make sure the Burrow was safe to place Harry there for even the night. 

Harry was apparently staying with someone named Remus Lupin. She didn't personally know him, but he had been part of the Order of the Phoenix, and he was a werewolf. Molly had no prejudice against him, she trusted Dumbledore enough to know what he was doing. Besides, she had heard Remus was an excellent wizard, a gentleman even. He was known to like his drink, but last Molly had heard no one had seen him since months ago, or if Molly timed it right, since the reappearance of Harry Potter. She was disappointed that she hadn't seen Harry since the day at the hospital. He had been so thin and frail, she had just wanted to hug him and never let him out of her sight.

Arthur would arrive later in the day to start his holiday. He seemed intent on making sure Harry was comfortable in their home. He had even used the extra money he had saved up for one of his Muggle- object tampering projects and had used it to get the boy some presents. He had been greatly affected after that day he had seen Harry Potter. He took care to tell his children just how much he loved them, took more time off work to play with them, and was even meeting his eldest sons Bill and Charlie to have a cup of coffee whenever they could. Molly wasn't sure if it had been the danger he had thought he had been going into as he approached the crumbled Dursley house, or if it was seeing a child so hurt and unloved. 

They had already warned everyone in the family that Harry was coming, and that they were forbidden from saying a word to anyone. They all seemed curious as to how much the legendary stories were right. Of course, no one had been told about the reason Harry was now in the wizarding world, but they had no right to share that information with anyone.

Suddenly, a shriek interrupted Molly's thoughts.

"HE'S HERE!!!!!!!" Ginny was jumping up and down with excitement. 

Earlier...  
_  
A three-year old toddler, with bright green eyes, totters across a blank white room; he falls over and begins to cry. No one comes..._

A five-year old boy gets up from where the toddler was and climbs up on a wall, walking across the top of it; he is headed in the same direction. He wants so badly to reach the other side, sweat collects at his brow as the wall narrows and his journey becomes more difficult. He falls and all he hears is insistent laughter ringing through the blank white room as he screams at his impending doom...

A six-year-old struggles to return to his feet and finds he can only use one leg. He stumbles and falls on his face, his mood plummeting as a sob escapes his lips...

A nine-year-old uses his hands to lift himself of the ground, he finds he can no longer walk, he crawls to a lone blank box, and falters as the air gets thinner. A plea for help rings in a vacant room...

Suddenly, an infant appears where the boy used to be and the baby crawls the rest of the way to the blank box. He coos with incoherent words but sees no one. He lifts the top and the sorrowful cries of all the boys who had been in the room expel from the empty box, staining the room into blackness; the deafening roar crumbling the interior within itself.  


Harry fell with a thump on the floor, in a heap of blankets. He was sweating profusely and his chest was contracting convulsively with heavy pants for air. He wrapped the blankets around his shaking form and walked toward the window, he didn't notice that the lamp by the center table was shuddering with the remnant magical current unleashed by his nightmare.

Pressing his head against the ice cold window pane, he managed to get his breathing under control. He noticed that the soft moon was still claiming the sky, stars still shinning bright.

He made fog form on the window with his exhale, and he used his finger to draw stick figures of the family that had only existed in his fantasies. This time, however, he added a fourth figure, and at the spur of the moment, wiped the other two away. He smiled sadly, the last times he had wiped the other figures away, he had been left alone; now, he had a special person who cared for him. 

That dream again...How had he not expected it? Every year, Christmas had been the worst day of the year, a reminder that no one loved him. A reminder he wasn't worthy enough to receive anything. The time, he had received an empty box had scarred him more than he cared to admit. He would not sleep again tonight.

He had just gotten lost in having fun with his uncle, that he had forgotten what day it was. They had stayed up most of the night; Remus reading a story of the history of the magical world aloud. He really didn't own any real novels, only texts and books on magical theory, history, and practical art. He even showed him manuscripts written in ancient languages. Remus would let him curl up in his throw on the couch next to him, and he would read to him.

Last night, he had read about Great Merlin. The farthest back the Magical community could trace its origins was Great Merlin himself. He was said to have been more powerful than ever could be humanly possible. He was idolized and revered throughout the world. Of course, there had been recorded cases of forms of magic before, especially in aboriginal tribes in Africa, but never to the level of the Great Wizard Merlin. Muggles didn't know the half of it; they thought he was just some guy who helped a fellow named Arthur. Merlin had done great things; writing books and spells that were being used in classes everywhere to this day. He had founded the secret Knights of Venificus Latito, who had created refuge for Magical beings and people, hiding an entire world right under the noses of the Muggles. Remus said he was still too young to understand a lot about magic, and so he had just glazed over the basics of the story.

A clicking and turn of the doorknob announced he wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping. Remus offered a small smile as he soundlessly helped Harry prepare some hot chocolate.

It had now been one month since Harry had come to live with Remus. They had become quite attached. Mostly, they would cook together, read books, and share their thoughts. In the past few weeks, they had even visited a Muggle Zoo.

That hadn't been a pleasant experience. The animals had acted strangely towards Remus. They would back up to the farthest end of their enclosures, keeping a good distance away from him. So, unless they had stayed a few more hours to see types of plants in a glass cage, they had wasted a visit. It didn't matter to Harry; he had had fun anyway.

They had spent the remainder of the day at an amusement park. Harry had gone on everything, dragging his uncle with him on every ride, who complained of too much exercise. It had been more fun than Harry could have thought possible. Remus had even begun to teach him Chess. Harry was terrible at it, but he had told Remus that no matter what, he didn't want him to go easy on him.

During the full moon in November, Dumbledore had taken him to Hogwarts, and he had spent the night in a comfy bed in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore had given him permission to play with the beautiful phoenix. He had played a modified game of hide-and-go-seek with the bird. He had been surprised Fawkes was so smart. Harry lost a billion rounds. The ancient bird seemed to flash like fire around the room. He did win once and the phoenix had nipped him in the finger when he jumped up and down and cheered. It was hilarious that the bird had been a bad loser; he would have never expected it.

Dumbledore had watched them from his desk while he completed some paperwork. Hagrid had even come up and introduced him to a card game called 'Exploding Snap'. They had betted candy and Dumbledore had offered him his own Sherbet Lemon drops to wager.

Harry was starting to regard Hagrid as a friend; the large man seemed to be a gentle giant, a kid at heart. His relationship with Dumbledore was complicated. The man was to be respected, but his witty and cheerful personality made it hard not to be drawn close. Harry saw how wise the Headmaster was and he couldn't help but to feel an instant connection of trust and adoration. If he would have to categorize him, he would be a friend, protector, and authority figure.

"Harry, you spaced out and the milk over-boiled," Remus said, pointing to the pot in his hand. 

Harry shook his head, clearing it of his reminiscing, and gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, my mind was wandering."

"I see that." Remus took out a block of chocolate and dumped a chunk of it into the saucepan. He broke off pieces for them to chew and handed Harry his share.

Remus eyed him from the corner of his vision. "Care to talk about it?"

Harry sighed. "No, I just get bad dreams on Christmas and I don't know why," he lied. "What's keeping you up?"

Remus didn't even bother to ask if Harry ever got any presents or if he ever received the ones he had sent- - he knew the answer was a 'no'. "Several things…including the holidays. I guess I just got used to resenting the season to be jolly. Never was much of an occasion to celebrate for me. This year it's substantially a different case, what with you around. Unfortunately, tonight will be a full moon. I can't help but feel guilty for leaving you alone. There really is nothing I can do about it, but I hate to have to feel helpless against my dilemma."

"Don't be. I never had a reason to enjoy the day anyway." Harry noted the usual bags under Remus's eyes and the tinge of yellow in his skin that gave him a sickly appearance when a full moon was approaching. Remus had told him that even though the new Wolfsbane potion allowed him to keep his mind, the potion had ill effects on his body. He couldn't drink it every time because his body would react badly to it, he never did tell him what happened when he didn't.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry shrugged.

"I am sure the Weasleys are going to make sure you are buried in Holiday cheer. From what Dumbledore has told me, they are really excited to have you there. And as bent as you are at having a depressing time, I doubt they will let you. Leave the depression to a martyr like me, would you, Harry?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. "I'll try to have fun for you. And I expect you right by my side by Christmas morning."

Remus ruffled his hair. "Wouldn't have it any other way, kiddo. I may look terrible then, but remember, it will be your fault if my eyes are so droopy that it looks like I'm sleepwalking for the duration of the day."

Harry laughed, knowing full well what toll the painful transformations took on his uncle and his dreadful appearance the next day, "Can we get the Weasleys presents? Especially Mr. Weasley, I don't want to know what could have happened if he hadn't saved my life. I mean," Harry smirked, "how could you have carried on without me?"

Remus frowned at him comically. "We'll head down to Diagon Alley before I take you down to their home. I want to meet Arthur and personally thank him for his retrieval of my big-headed savior."

"Ha! Ha! ha!" he rolled his eyes, "That's a good idea though, I completely forgot to get you anything."

"Harry, I am astonished...here I am gathering heap fulls of presents, and you have not thought of a gift for your dear favorite uncle," Remus spoke in an exaggerated tone of hysterics.

"Ummm…" Harry rubbed his chin, "Uncle Moony...I'm pretty sure you are the only uncle I know of at the moment."

Remus chuckled as he poured the hot chocolate into the mugs. "Gee, Harry, you make me feel so incredibly special. Excuse me, will you, for my 'uncle' blunder."

"I try! I guess I can forgive you for today; you could be making imaginary uncles for me in your head. We'll get you help as soon as possible!"

Remus swatted him in the back of the head playfully. "You will require me to get help for myself, because of your incessant need to speak smart and sarcastic comments."

Harry laughed. "I feel you can handle it. Plus, I like to keep you on your feet."

"Not to worry, I won't let you be the victor so easily," Remus said slyly.

Harry cocked his head and stared at him defiantly, "We'll have to see." He let a small smile through his act, and Remus shook his head and handed Harry his steaming cup of hot chocolate.

Harry took his cup and they drank in a comfortable silence. They got ready quickly, hoping to reach Diagon Alley before the holiday crowds congested the streets. They grabbed their coats from the rack. Harry's held an extra layer and fur lining. Remus had insisted he have the thickest coat in the shop, which Harry wasn't really used to. He was usually given one of Dudley's old coats, and they were usually worn thin. Remus held out the bulgy coat, allowing Harry to slip his arms in through the sleeves. Remus smiled when he zipped Harry up, putting a scarf on his neck and a ski cap on his head to cover his scar.

"Let's get going!" Remus said cheerfully, hoping to make the best of the little time he would get to spend with Harry.

Remus tapped the red bricks that covered the entrance to the village. "Three up, and two across, Harry. You might need to know that one day when you're as big and tall as I am." He winked at Harry.

When they entered the Alley, Remus noted they had successfully avoided the rush hour traffic for last minute present shoppers.

"Where to, Harry?"

"Umm... What do you think they will like? I have to get nine presents. I don't want to leave anyone feeling left out."

"Okay, well...I heard Arthur loves any Muggle artifacts. Do you know of anything that could be interesting to him?"

Harry put a finger to his chin, squinting his eyes in concentration, "How about a flying model of an airplane?"

"That is an excellent idea; we can stop by Muggle London later. How about everyone else?"

"The older guys can get books that you can choose. The younger boys can get stuff from that joke shop and the candy store...Mrs. Weasley a nice pendant," Harry blushed, "the girl, a charm bracelet."

Remus gave an inquisitive smile. "Her name was Ginny, correct?"

Harry nodded, looking at the floor. Something about the little girl had made him feel warm. By her funny rebuttal to her dad calling her 'little', and the way she had smiled, he felt drawn to her. Even the boy named Ron had seemed like he would be a great friend and person. Mr. Weasley had raised his kids to be a lot like him and carry his values, which easily attracted Harry to want to be apart of something so wonderful. The longing to be a part of something like that, was beyond any feeling Harry had ever felt.

Remus saw Harry started to tune out as he thought who knew what, and he decided not to pursue the subject further. He chuckled and patted Harry's back. "Let's be going, then. We have plenty to do today and not nearly enough time!"

They shopped for a good hour, getting presents for everyone. After they had exchanged some gold for Muggle money, they exited Diagon Alley, going down the street to a Muggle toyshop.

Remus held the door open for Harry. Harry looked around. There were bright toys making loud noises and moving about their display cases. He passed the girly isles, exploring the action figures in a corner. He spotted the airplanes in a display pile near him, walking towards it and picking a bright red model of a DH 82 A Tiger Moth. Remus was next to him, looking in fascination at a strategy game on naval battles. Harry fingered some bright red and blue Legos when a little boy approached him.

"Those are no good, you know," he pointed at the Legos. "The pieces make a mess everywhere. You'll end up with only a single piece left in less than a month." The boy was short and was wearing an expensive looking black overcoat. He had his light brown hair slicked back and he had gray eyes.

"I was just looking at it. Thanks, anyway, for the warning."

"No problem! Hey, do you know what this is?" He held out a box with a plastic toy.

Harry started to sweat. "That's a gun."

"Really? What does it do?"

Harry stared at the gun._ It's fake, get over it. Keep it together! He's not your drunk Uncle Vernon!_ He berated himself against letting his mind wander into the forbidden territory. "That's just a toy. The real ones are something you shouldn't know about."

The boy furrowed his eyebrows, "I've never seen one," he flipped the box around, studying it before putting it back, " I just sneaked away from my mum. She's next door, getting her hair done. She still thinks I am in the waiting room, waiting patiently for her. She's going to be so angry." The boy laughed nervously, taking a quick glance around the shop.

Harry smiled, the smile not exactly reaching his eyes. "I'm just here with my uncle. But you should go back to your mum before she worries."

The boy snorted. "I doubt that very much!"

Harry was about to ask why, when he heard an angry voice.

"YOU! You are in so much trouble, mister. Wait 'till your father hears!" A brunette woman, with gray eyes, pristinely pinned hair, and a domineering presence, grabbed the little boy. "Honestly! I ask you to wait, and what do you do? You sneak around and speak with _these_ people. What do you want with _these_ types of toys anyway; _our_ kind makes better ones than these piles of garbage."

"Mother, these toys aren't as bad as you make them out to be. I was talking to my new friend, and he's not so bad."

Harry cowered, not wanting to be confronted by the angry woman. Remus came to his rescue.

"Is there a problem here?" Remus gave the mother and son a forced smile, putting a protective hand on Harry's shoulder.

The woman looked at him coldly, turning her nose up in the air after looking at the old and tattered coat Remus was wearing. "My son and I were just leaving _this_ place. Come along, Ervin."

Remus took the look with stride, only a slight movement toward Harry revealed his annoyance. He was used to the reaction by the haughty and egotistical members of society.

The boy hung his head and started to walk away before he turned around. "What's your name, anyway?"

Harry shook his stupor off, "My name is Ha-"

Remus interrupted, "Harold, Harold Pellings."

Harry raised his eyebrows, mouth still agape. That was something he hadn't expected.

The woman swerved around looking at Harry and turning her eyes to Remus in a suspicious glare.

Ervin opened his mouth to speak but his mother seemed to notice and stopped him in his tracks.

"COME! NOW!" The woman pulled her son's arm and forced him out the store.

Harry let out a deep breath.

Remus looked at him, "You alright, Harry?

Harry handed him the plane. "I'm fine." With that, he walked to the register with Remus following him.

Remus was a little worried; something told him Harry was not 'fine'. Harry had been doing this for the past few weeks. When something bothered him, he would become quiet for long periods of time and stiffen up. When confronted, he would force a smile and wave it off. Remus didn't want to pry, but if Harry continued with the behavior, he was sure he would withdraw again. He seemed genuinely happy most of the time, but sometimes he would freeze at a random object or action and would refuse to speak. It was frustrating, at the very least. He had shared his concerns with Albus, and they had agreed to seek some professional help for him. He needed someone with a third perspective who could help him out. They did want a magical therapist though; they didn't want Harry having to keep secrets.

Remus paid for the plane and they had to squint their eyes against the bright morning sun as they left the store to the flat. It was bitterly cold outside; however, it had yet to snow properly, leaving Londoners disappointed at the prospect of a not-so-white Christmas.

They dropped the bags on the table after entering the flat. Harry looked at the presents, "What now?"

Pulling out his wand, Remus wagged his eyebrows. "OBVOLVO DONUM" He did a general wave with his wand and then flicked it several times.

Harry stared as wrapping paper appeared out of nowhere and started to wrap the presents as if a hundred invisible hands were hard at work. Each present was topped off with a pleasant red bow.

Remus blew at imaginary smoke on the tip of his wand, wiping his knuckles on his coat with an astute expression.

"Must you always show off?" Harry laughed.

Remus smirked. "Absolutely!"

Harry grinned, observing his Remus' handy work. .

"Time to go, Harry, no time to tarry. I am positive they have been waiting for you since morning. I'll take the presents when I arrive tomorrow."

"Okay, I was wondering if I would have to carry all that."

"Do you have everything packed in your rucksack?"

"Yes, I did it last night. Let me go get it."

"Hurry, Dumbledore gave me a Portkey. If I don't use it in the next twenty minutes, it will expire!" he called off after Harry.

Harr y walked towards the large farm house on the narrow dirt road. It was brilliant. It seemed to be constructed of old wooden boards, had seven floors piled unsystematically on top of each other, and the building was crooked and leaning to one side. It seemed like it was impossible it was standing at all, it was like an invisible force or energy held it in place. To Harry, it was perfect. It didn't look uptight, strict, or boring like the Dursley house. In fact, it was the exact opposite of that. It was homey, warm, loving, and seemed to offer a pact of memories and a guarantee of love.

The chickens scurried out of his way as he walked towards the front door with Remus at his side. He took Remus's hand, drawing comfort and trying to calm his nervousness.

Remus squeezed his small hand and reassured him he was still at his side. "I'll delay my departure until I'm sure you're comfortable. You'll be fine, Harry."

Harry gulped when the door opened to reveal a kind-faced plump woman.

"Oh, you've finally arrived. I am so happy to have you here, Harry!" She kneeled beside Harry and engulfed him in a loving hug. Harry had been ready and managed no to flinch. "We need to fatten you right up! You're as thin as a pole!"

She turned a pleasant smile on Remus and shook his hand. "Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Lupin. I've heard a great deal of positive things about you."

Remus shook her hand and smiled at her, his eyes kind and open. "All lies, I believe, Mrs. Weasley. But, please call me Remus."

Smiling, Molly swatted a hand in the air. "Call me Molly then, Remus. We'll be seeing a lot more of each other, I hope."

"That arrangement would be ideal for Harry here. With my situation I was reluctant to take Harry in, but your spectacular family has offered their wonderful home and I was more than happy to oblige. I've heard great things of your family also." To be quite honest, Remus wasn't saying it for flattery. He was beyond relieved that Harry would be able to spend the time away from him with a home full of kids his own age.

"Oh, you flatter me, Remus. Now come inside this instant before you catch a nasty cold. I'm no sure how much 'Pepper Up' potion I have left. I've prepared lunch for you, and I won't take no for an answer!"

"Molly, really, it's unnecessary. You shouldn't have gone through the trouble." Remus paled at the thought of food, already feeling queasy.

"I am more than happy to do it. Now, come along. Arthur isn't home yet, but I'll introduce you to the rest of the family." She stuck her head out of the kitchen and called out to the rest of the house in a shrill voice, "FRED! GEORGE! GINNY! RON! BILL! CHARLIE! PERCY! COME DOWN, WE HAVE COMPANY!"

There were thunderous sounds on the steps as feet made their way to the kitchen. A 'POP' and a squeal announced Arthur had arrived near the children. The redheaded patriarch arrived first, his children piled behind him, all looking windswept as if they had run a marathon. Charlie was holding Ginny, who had gone up the stairs and woken up her brothers before their mother's call. Ron was standing next to the twins and Bill, who were smirking as Percy scowled at them. They had apparently been up to no good when they had gone to wake up Percy, ignoring all the warnings they had received prior.

Harry and Remus had shed their coats and other excessive winter apparel and put them in a closet before the ruckus had started. Harry held on tighter to Remus's hand, emerald eyes flickering among all the members of the large family.

Arthur rushed forward and forgot all formalities. He enveloped Harry in a tight hug, picking him off his feet, features framed in glee and honest happiness for the reunion. Harry stiffened at the touch but relaxed when he saw true relief in Arthur's eyes at his presence. A warm feeling enveloped his heart at his unexpected welcome.

"My boy, I am glad to see you again. It's been way too long." He patted Harry on the back. "How has your stay in the wizarding world gone?"

Harry was released to the ground and his eyes brightened at the smile Arthur sent his way, "It's been great! I've gotten to see so many things. Uncle Moony took me to an amusement park. That was good fun, even though he," Harry pointed at Remus and cupped his mouth, whispering the rest in Arthur's ear indiscreetly, "he complained that he was too old. Can you believe that? He is so silly sometimes."

Arthur laughed, looking up at Remus, who shoved Harry in the back playfully. Arthur held a hand out to greet Remus.

After giving Harry another mock glare, Remus shook his hand. "Don't believe a word he says. It's a pleasure, shame I have never made your acquaintance."

"Truly is, pleasures all mine. Did you really go to a smuzement park? Tell me, what is it?" Pure glee filled the patriarch's face, horn-rimmed glasses slightly crooked on his face.

"It's a place where they put up rides that run on electricity and go fast. There is so much to do there. You should go one day!" Harry offered.

"It's certainly on my list now! Let me introduce you to the rest of these people, I'd hate to hog you all night. Let's see, we'll do this by ages." He turned to his children, "Everyone line up by age, and we want to be able to eat lunch today, so be quick about it!" Everyone scurried to form a line at the mention of food.

Harry looked at the one in the front of the line, who shook his hand and introduced himself as Bill; he had long auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, looked about twenty or nineteen, and had a large fang hanging from his ear. He was very muscular with a thick neck, and wore rugged, tough-looking clothing. Something told Harry this was not a man he wanted to upset, even though he appeared overall friendly.

Another older man, who looked seventeen or so, shoved Bill out of the way and offered his hand to Remus and Harry. Charlie was stockier and shorter than Bill and had so many freckles that his face appeared permanently tanned. He was muscular but seemed more refined than Bill, even though they both held handsome characteristics. He looked as if rebellion wasn't new to him by a tattoo Harry caught sight of when his sleeve lifted. Charlie gave an alarmed look and quickly pulled his sleeve down, glancing at his mother and putting finger to his lips to indicate Harry's secrecy. Harry pretended to zip his lips and was approached by a curly-haired Weasley.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter, "he nodded his head at Harry who was trying his hardest not to laugh, and took Remus's hand. "Mr. Lupin, you may address me Percy if you so wish."

Remus glanced at Harry and tried to hide his amusement and responded, "Certainly, Percy." Percy went off to the side to sit at the table with his older brothers, ignoring the laughs he was receiving from the rest of his siblings.

Harry recognized the other two lanky forms approaching. "The twins, from Hogwarts! The ones who were getting in troub--"

"Woah, Harry!" Fred said as his eyes widened and he looked pointedly at his mother.

George surrounded Harry on the other side. "Harry, my friend, careful with the M-U-M and the you-know-what-you-saw."

Harry pinned his lips between his teeth to keep from laughing.

Glad that they weren't in immediate danger from their mother, Fred and George shook his hand and nodded at Remus, pleased that Harry remembered them. George spoke first, "You should excuse my git of a brother. We get trying to have our mum admit he was adopted but she just won't budge" The room laughed and Molly frowned at the twins.

Fred smirked and bent over to whisper in Harry's ear, "We'll make sure your stay here is fun. Just watch and see, we have a lot of plans for our _dear_ older brother. You just wait!"

Harry smiled and saw that the only people left were Ginny and Ron. Arthur brought them up with an arm. "Now, you've met these two already. They've been really excited to see you. Say 'hello', you two."

Ron and Ginny blushed at their dad's admittance on how they had wanted to see him so badly. They shyly greeted Remus, and Ron bravely came forward towards Harry, grabbing his arm. "Come! Mum said you could sit next to me!"

Ginny looked on sheepishly and followed them, angry at herself that she hadn't been able to force any type of articulation from her mouth. She sat on the other side of Harry and gave him a smile, gathering up her courage she stretched a small hand out. "Hi, can you pass me the pumpkin juice." Ginny closed her eyes, out of all the things she could have said!

Harry passed her the juice, trying to pretend to pay attention to Ron's recital of his chess playing experience. Her chocolate brown eyes smiled at him.

Ginny whispered in his ear, "If you don't stop him soon, he'll ramble on all night."

They laughed and Harry spoke to her, "He seems nice but I don't really know much about chess yet."

"I've played with him sometimes and he always wins no matter what I do! I completely stopped trying a year ago."

Ron was completely oblivious to the fact that Harry's attention wasn't completely focused on him. "And, in Ottery St. Catchpole, I won the medal for the tournament. I swept them all off the charts and they were all decades older than me."

Harry honestly thought Ron was a great guy. He hoped they could be friends. "Congrats, Uncle Moony has just started to teach me-"

Ron's eyes widened, "You're just starting to learn the game now?! Wow, I learned when I was four or five-"

Smirking, Ginny nudged him in the ribs. "See what I mean."

Molly served the delicious food. Everyone dug in and was socializing with their neighbors.

Harry noticed Remus was looking at the food as if it was the primordial evil of all wrongs in the world. He probably wasn't feeling so good. He shuffled most of the chips around and put some of the fried creations into his mouth, his skin taking on a greenish tinge. Harry gave him a sad smile because he knew he was just staying to keep his promise to him. Remus sent him a questioning look, trying to see if he would be okay by himself. Remus liked to leave early and be by himself for a while before the transformations. He also didn't eat because the potion would make him regurgitate what he had eaten anyway. Harry nodded and took advantage of Ron taking time out to shovel second helpings into his mouth, to look on as Remus used a hand to magically vanish the food on his plate.

Most people had already finished their meal and were simply chattering.

Remus stood up. "Molly, Arthur, I really must get going."

Molly and Arthur looked disappointed. "Must you really, Remus?"

Remus offered a sickly smile. "I am afraid so, Molly."

Arthur took his hand. "What a shame. I hope to see you tomorrow morning for Christmas?"

Nodding, Remus took his coat from Molly's hand. "Wouldn't dare miss it."

Harry got up from his chair and followed Remus to the sitting room to say goodbye privately.

Remus gave him a hug as Harry looked down sadly at the floor. Remus smiled, lifting up Harry's chin with his index and thumb. "Harry, you'll do just fine," he assured him in a gentle voice, a small smile gracing his face.

"You'll come back?" Fear etched Harry's eyes as his insecurities showed through.

"Harry I really wouldn't know what to do without you. We joke about it but in the end we need each other, okay?"

"I know. I--," Harry was ready to tell him what fear would overcome him in the morning, "I feel like one day I'll wake up and you won't be there. That I would have dreamed you up and that I would still be at the Dursleys'."

Remus walked him over to a couch, sitting down, and allowing Harry to climb onto his lap. "Listen to me," he waited till his small sorrowful eyes met his own, "I don't know how to reassure you that you're not dreaming, but I will guarantee that I won't leave your side. I know how painful it is to be alone. And, right now, you need to make some friends and live for once. Nothing I can say can make you feel better about what you have been through. All you can do is not close yourself off and let someone reach you for once. You can trust these people, Harry. Sometimes I think you're helping me more than I have helped you."

Harry looked down at his hands nervously. "I haven't told you something."

Slightly alarmed, Remus furrowed his eyebrows and prompted, "Harry?"

"I remember things, things that I know most people wouldn't. I kind of knew your face when I saw it. Like I recognized it, but hadn't known. I felt I could trust you before I even really knew you. I dream of voices I don't remember. When I was smaller, I once stole this stuffed animal of a black dog from my cousin Dudley. I don't think he ever found out, even though I hid it and was too scared to get it again. But something about it made me happy--" Harry finished quietly.

Suddenly, Remus got up at the mention of the dog, looking far away, he held a sullen expression.

Harry fell on his feet, head bowed. "I'm sorry if it's strange. I--are you okay, Uncle Moony?"

Remus glanced at Harry, not daring to look up. "I'm sorry. I--just old memories. I should go, Harry."

Biting his lip, Harry nodded slowly, now just worried for his uncle as he watched him disappear into the flames of green fire, which had just been activated a few minutes ago to allow him and Harry to travel to and fro.

Harry sighed; he looked at the large Christmas tree and touched some of the handmade ornaments. It made him jealous to imagine the large Weasley family getting together to decorate the tree.

Ginny went looking for Harry, coming up next to him and staring at the tree, her confidence at its usual peak, "It's not much, but I love it."

"I think everything is brilliant." Harry said in a dazed voice, trying to put all the stuff about the way Remus had reacted out of his mind.

Ron had followed his sister and was standing next to her. "Can I ask you some things, Harry?"

Ginny elbowed her brother. "Ron!"

"What, Ginny?! He asks a question, I answer; I ask a question, he answers."

Slightly apprehensive, Harry made his face into a blank mask and shrugged. "I can't promise you an answer."

Having been eavesdropping, Fred and George entered, and suggested, "How about we all share a little bit about ourselves," to lessen the load on their new company.

"Excellent idea, brothers!" Charlie and Bill said in unison.

Everyone agreed and they gathered up in a circle. Harry was sitting next to Bill and Ginny.

Bill looked at the circle's occupants expectantly. "Well, who's starting?"

"Me!" Ron said eagerly. "I am nine and a half, I love to play chess. My favorite team in the league is the Chudley Cannons. I love all foods and sweets--"

"Tell me about it," Fred said offhandedly.

Ron glared at him, "That's about it! Harry, you next!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip until it went white. He hesitantly said, "I've lived with Remus Lupin for a month. I-I-don't know what else to say..." Harry stared at the floor, a tremble causing his hands to shake. He yanked at his sleeves furiously, needing to hide the stupid scars._ He wasn't a freak! No, he was strong and worthy. Remus had said, why would it be any different with people his own age?_

Bill chimed in, chalking up Harry's discomfort to mild shyness, "Oh, I'm sure there's something you can tell us. After all, you're famous!"

Breathing hard, Harry shook his head furiously. "I didn't even know…I just learned I was a wizard." His hands shook more and he set them on his lap and clawed at his thighs until they bled, gazing off at the floor and focusing on the pain.

The children in the room chorused variants of 'what?!', still unaware of Harry's distress as he blushed deeper. _Oh, no, he__** was**__ just a freak! What had he been thinking, to sit with them? He was just a bad freak, a disease._ That's why Remus had tossed him off his lap. _Freaks were only meant to be hurt. They didn't deserve friends at all, they needed pain._ He dug his nails deeper as he began to sweat profusely and he began to see blurry.

Ginny shook his arm, looking concerned. "Where have you been for all this time, Harry?"

Harry swallowed as bile threatened to rise up his throat, he could feel his face burning with embarrassment. "I lived with my...aunt and uncle; they're ...mea--Muggles." Harry was growing flustered, suppressing a wince as his fingers and thighs flared at the pain he was causing them.

Charlie decided to get his questions answered too. "So, where are they?"

Harry gazed at the floor, turning pale and overwhelmed. "I don't know." He had never learned what had happened to them. Maybe they had all lied to him and they really had been killed by him. 

"You don't care?" said George, scrunching his face up in confusion.

"I--- I don't know." Harry pulled at his shirt collar; it seemed too tight all of a sudden. It felt like it was about to strangle him dead. _Then Dudley was pinning him down, his knee at his throat and he was making a five-year-old Harry try to bark as he was strangled. No! Not ever again. He won't touch me! _In a haze, Harry could see he was in the circle.

"How come you didn't know you were famous?" Charlie inquired.

Still digging his nails in, Harry was feeling so ill that it hurt to breath. "I don't know." His hands hurt so badly, _then he was four and Aunt Petunia had tied his hand to the door knob for going to answer it and revealing his existence to the neighbor. She slammed it shut on his fingers and Harry heard the pops as he cried out amongst Dudley's laughter. No! No, not anymore, I'm safe now. _

Percy decided to make an appearance from the page of his book. "How can you not be sure of so many things? Why are you here in the wizarding world?"

Harry was in a cold sweat, spluttering, "My aunt and uncle weren't very nice people. Your dad found me one day and let me leave." Harry felt something on his fingers. He looked down and realized there were green flames dancing on his finger tips. He hurriedly shoved his hand behind his back. And the house had erupted into flames and his uncle was laying across form him on the floor, bleeding from the head. Murder! No! I'm safe!

"What happened?" Bill inquired.

Harry started to shake, "They hurt me and I--something happened to the house." _His uncle was slamming the chain into him and Harry couldn't breath. NO! I-I they said I was safe! _Harry shook the memory away, shoving the green flames behind his back so no one would see that he was a freak.

Ron gave a curious look. "What exactly did they do? And, what happened to the house?"

Harry froze; his eyes glazing over, his mind shutting down to only hear his screams from that day echoing in his ears. He watched himself submit to the pain and cry out, the scene of that day replaying in his mind. The flames spread up his arms. "NO! I-I was SAFE! No, no, no…" Harry screamed as he rocked back and forth and the flames spread to his thighs where he had pierced them with his nails. Frantically, he clawed at the flames. But that wasn't enough because he didn't deserve hands. He squeezed his fists and made sure that his hands knew that--that they broke because he was a freak. "FREAK! NO!" Faster and faster, the world was spinning and there was no relief and he deserved it.

The group panicked and backed away from Harry. Bill and Charlie moved their siblings behind them, calling out to their parents.

"MUM! DAD! SOMETHING IS TERRIBLY WRONG WITH HARRY!" Bill bellowed, having never seen anything quite like what the child was doing.

Arthur was the first one to appear. He rushed to Harry's side, grabbing his shoulders hard. "Harry, come back! Harry, look at me! You're safe! You're alright!"

Harry blinked when he heard a gentle voice calling out to him, the flames seizing at once. "Mr. Weasley?" He had tears in his eyes and he didn't know why. His skin stung so badly all over.

Arthur put his hands on the frightened boy's clammy cheeks. "Harry, are you okay?"

Confused as to why he was breathing hard, Harry nodded. "What happened? I don't remember anything; I think Ron stopped talking about himself now."

Arthur turned to his children, anger lining his face. "What was going on here?!"

Bill came forward. "Dad, we were just asking him a couple of questions."

"We'll talk about it later!" Arthur snapped. The kids all seemed taken aback by their father's outburst. They had never seen him like that before. Arthur took Harry's shoulder and led him up the stairs to lie down in Ron's room.

Harry felt tired all of a sudden, he assumed it had been the fact that he had gotten up so early. He allowed himself to be put into the covers, and his eyelids fell heavily over his lost, jade eyes.

Arthur descended the stairs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Speaking in a tired voice he said, "I need to tell you lot a couple of things. Sit down."

Molly came in from gathering fruits from the orchard. "Where's Harry?"

Arthur sighed, "He wasn't feeling too well. He looked almost like... last time."

Molly dropped the basket of apples. "Goodness, will he be alright?" she said worriedly.

"Actually, can you go tend to him? He," Arthur choked, "he seems to have harmed himself quite terribly."

Eyes flooding with tears and children looking stricken, Molly nodded her head and hurried up the steps, with a last pointed look at their children.

"I just need to tell our children a couple of things so that they don't upset Harry."

Ginny tugged on her dad's robe, she had tears in her eyes. "What did they do to him?"

Arthur picked up his daughter, he glanced at his family. "There can be things that happen in this world that can be hard to imagine. I won't tell you the details, but Harry was hurt... mortally bad."

Everyone gasped, Ginny started to cry, and everyone looked ashamed for their interrogations.

Bill ran a hand through his hair, "I had no idea... What were those green flames, Dad?"

"Harry seems to produce them to protect himself. We aren't really sure what it's about. He won't harm anyone though. Now that you know, I really want you kids to make Harry feel welcome. He is in a fragile state right now and anything might break him."

"So, he must be really powerful, father?" Percy asked, failing to hide his fascination.

Arthur nodded. "He doesn't know how to wield his magic yet, but sooner or later I know he will be a great wizard."

Harry woke up; he rubbed his eyes, lifting himself off his bed. Someone stirred in the mattress next to his.

Ron propped himself up on his elbows. "Morning, Harry."

Harry smiled, observing the older boy. "Good morning. Did I sleep all night?"

"Blimey! You were out like a light, nothing would wake you!"

Harry scratched his head, "I guess I was tired," his stomach grumbled, "I think my stomach caught on to the fact that I haven't eaten in a while."

Ron glanced down at his companion's arms and noted that his mother had healed the wounds. They had all been told to not mention what had happened the night before, and the children all felt so guilty that they readily obliged. Ron chuckled and his eyes suddenly lit up, he sprung from his bed. To happier thoughts, Ron shouted, "IT"S CHRISTMAS MORNING! LET'S GO!"

Harry jumped back at the start Ron had given him at his outburst. He followed behind Ron, who woke up other pajama clad members of his family. Ginny came out of her room and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him along with her. "Come, Harry, the quicker we wake Mummy and Daddy, the faster we can get to our presents." She glanced up at his face and smiled, her chocolate brown eyes lighting up.

"Presents?" Harry said with a tone of sadness.

Ginny gave him a once over, taken aback by his response. "You know Daddy bought you presents too, right?"

Harry's eyes brightened, hardly wanting to believe his ears. "He did?"

Squeezing his hand, Ginny smiled. "Of course, Harry!"

Arthur and Molly were woken up quickly; everyone was allowed to open only their stockings while Molly prepared breakfast. Harry had one hand about to indulge in opening his presents, when he saw Remus climb out of the fire, bearing a bag of presents.

Harry noticed his uncle looked deadly tired, there was a cut on his jaw that looked fresh, and his eyes seemed even more far way than usual. He offered a smile to Harry, enveloping him in a hug. "I promised I'd be here today," he said tiredly. His eyes sweeping all over Harry to make sure that he was alright. The Floo call he had gotten while in Dumbledore's office from Arthur had been alarming and Remus blamed himself whole heartedly.

Something bothered Harry about Remus's strange appearance. Something wasn't quite right and he could tell by his eyes that Remus still had the sad look from the day before. Something else seemed to be bothering him too, judging by the fact that he wouldn't quite meet Harry's eyes. "I know," he responded quietly.

Remus greeted the Weasleys and the children all opened their stockings. Harry found that most people had the same things. There were handmade treats, cakes, and biscuits. There was a couple of dung bombs, he suspected they had come from the twins, a single large tooth from Charlie that was much to large to belong to any animal Harry had ever seen, and a box of something called 'Chocolate Frogs Cards'. He grinned; happy he had received anything at all.

The twins had initiated a game of Exploding Snap with everyone until they had been called for breakfast.

The meal had gone much like the day before, with Ron talking, while Ginny whispered in Harry's ear, Remus pushing around his food, conversations going full out all across the table. The twins had even interrupted them with their own stories of what type of pranks they had pulled on their older brother Percy. Percy had his nose in a book as he shoveled eggs into his mouth; that had lasted about half way through the meal, when Mrs. Weasley had shouted at him to get a grip and spend at least two seconds not studying.

Besides Percy, Harry observed Remus was the only silent person at the table. He saw   
Mrs. Weasley beaming at her eldest sons, she was speaking to Remus who was making a show at intense interest. "Charlie here is only partially in school, he was accepted into a two-year training program on rearing magical creatures. I wish he wouldn't, but doesn't mean I can't be proud that he was hand-chosen to do it. Can you believe he's also a Seeker, I honestly don't know how he manages his time, but they do only give him a couple necessary classes. His load is much lighter than other students concerning his subjects." 

She turned to Bill. "Bill, he works with Gringott's as a Curse Breaker. I don't see why he can't just work with the goblins inside the bank, but he insists that he is capable in the field. I just hope he's right! I am scared out of mind that he'll come home as a pile of blubbering jelly one day from one of those dangerous tombs. I do have to admit my Bill is a genius in his own right. He was head boy, you know. Never could be prouder." She pinched Bill's cheek affectionately. "Although, I really want to know why he dresses the way he does. He would look so handsome with shorter hair. Bill, do you see Charlie growing his hair and dressing the way you do?" 

Bill chuckled and glanced at Charlie, who was trying his hardest to blend in with a bowl of eggs. Bill threw a roll of bread at his brother who gave him a warning glare.

The rest of the meal was uneventful, besides the fact that Remus refused to meet Harry's eyes during the meal. Even when Harry had asked him to pass the bread, he hadn't even looked up from his plate. They finished eating and went into the sitting room to gather around the Christmas tree. The gifts were passed around to their recipients and there were sounds of happiness and approval as the presents were unwrapped. 

Harry left his presents off to the side, he hadn't looked at them, he was too busy looking at the reactions and emotions of the people around him. Remus was next to him and seemed to be in the same mind frame as Harry; his presents were off to the side. Several times, Harry though his uncle had opened his mouth to speak to him, but he would close it immediately.

Instead of questioning Remus's strange behavior, Harry watched as the Weasleys got to his presents to them. He was a bit nervous if they would like their gifts. Mrs. Weasley was first; she told him that he shouldn't have before opening the box and shrieking in delight. The pendant was gold, had pearls, and was in the shape of some beautiful flying horse. Her eyes welled with tears as she went over to hug him. Remus had chosen the books for Bill, Charlie, and Percy after sending a quick letter to Dumbledore with his wand. Harry had stared in awe when a letter had appeared and disappeared.

With Dumbledore's helpful hints in mind, Bill had gotten a book called 'The Spells and Curses that Elude Us'. Charlie had received a heavy text on rearing magical creatures which was shaking and letting out a distinct roar when someone, other than he, touched it. Percy had beamed as he unwrapped a large manual on studying for success. They had looked absolutely ecstatic with their presents, thanking them enthusiastically.

The twins and Ron had gotten things from the joke shop and some candy. After thanking him, Harry saw Fred and George stowing away the box of 'Supplies Every Joker Needs for a Bit of Fun' in a sofa duvet, away from their mum's prying eyes. Ron already had his mouth full of chocolate and thanked Harry with a mere body gesture, too busy consuming his new gift to even attempt verbal speech.

The gift Harry was most nervous about was Ginny's, he hoped she liked it. Ginny was sitting next to him; she sent him a smile when she got to Harry's present, unraveling it slowly. When she opened the box she fell silent, staring at the beautiful silver trinket. The bracelet had no charms yet, but it had tiny diamonds encrusted into the chain itself, which made it sparkle brightly. She squealed, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck. Harry awkwardly patted his back and he saw Remus glance away, looking worried.

"Harry, I love it. It's so pretty. Put it on me!"

Harry smiled, briefly observing the way the light hit her fiery hair, before shaking himself. He was happy she loved it. He put it on her wrist. "It still has no charms on it, but as you get older, I promise I will buy you a new charm every year."

"Really?" Her honey brown eyes were sparkling.

Harry smiled, looking around and noticing no one was paying attention to them, they were too involved looking at their own gifts. "Yes."

Ginny fingered the bracelet, keeping her eyes down. "Will you be my friend, Harry?"

Harry's eyes brightened at the thought of finally having a friend around his own age. "Yes."

Ron had heard her question and chimed in, "Hey! How about me? We're friends. Right, Harry?"

Harry's felt his heart lighten and his eyes filled with earnest, "Absolutely!"

They all smiled at each other before they were interrupted by Mr. Weasley's happy outburst. "My word! Harry, is this an aeroplyne?" He held up his gift from Harry.

Harry smiled, "Yes, Sir! It's an airplane."

Arthur opened his mouth, wide eyes falling on the box and back to Harry, he got up from his seat, lifting Harry off his feet in strangling hug and swinging him around. When he had let Harry back to the ground he kissed the box. "I can't believe it! My goal for these past few years was to see how aeroplanes stay up! You have made me a very happy man." Mr. Weasley started to tear open the box and he looked like a little kid in a candy store, his expression resembling a child's as he ran outside to fly the plane. Everyone stared, knowing how their father could be, when Mrs. Weasley had run off after her husband, hoping to knock some sense into him.

As soon as they left, everyone got over their initial shock, and they burst into laughter.

Ginny nudged him. "You have no idea what you have done!" She laughed even more when Fred and George decided to mimic their father's reaction to the plane.

Ron caught his breath; he noticed the piles of presents next to Harry and Remus. "Why haven't you guys opened your presents?"

Remus answered for Harry. "We were just distracted by your reactions to your own presents to pay much attention to ours. We'll get to them now, won't we, Harry?"

Harry nodded; he picked up an oddly shaped package. He opened it and felt a ball forming in his throat; it was a green jumper with a golden 'H' embroidered on it.

Ron looked at him with an apologetic look, taking Harry's silence to mean he hated the sweater. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know it's tacky, but every year, Mum makes them by hand, and gives them to us. They aren't really extravagant or anyt---"

Harry felt the soft wool under his fingers, "I love it!" he exclaimed. He threw the sweater on over his shirt and grinned from ear to ear.

"Mum must really like you Harry, none of our friends have ever received one. They usually signify you're a Weasley. You're in for the long run, I'm afraid. Once Mum has you, you don't ever escape." George explained.

"Thanks George, for making it sound terrifying." Ron gave an apologetic look to Harry again, "It's not all bad, Mum's really protective, but she makes sure you have plenty of great food to eat."

Harry laughed.

Charlie chucked a quill at Ron and teased, "Always thinking about food, aren't you, Ron?"

Ron scowled. "Oh, shut it, tattoo boy!" Ron features turned to triumphant when he saw Charlie's face flush of color. "I saw it this morning, when I woke you up. You should really start wearing long-sleeve shirts to bed."

Charlie tugged at his shirt sleeve, glaring at his little brother, who laughed along with everyone else in the room.

Bill cleared his throat in an official manner. "I am currently taking bets on Mum's reaction when she finds out."

Remus chuckled next to Harry, waving a wand in the air and conjuring a blackboard. "Use this to officially write down the possible reactions and bids." He smiled mischievously, youth reappearing on his face for a second.

Charlie was glaring at the whole room.

Ginny handed two sickles to her oldest brother. "Two, on threatening to scrub it until she can't see it anymore."

"One galleon on Mum having a nervous breakdown over her sweet Charlie sneaking off to Hogsmeade to get the body art done!" Fred interjected.

George put a hand to his chin in concentration "I say she screams so loud, that she makes the Burrow shake for a good hour or so! Six knuts should do it!"

Everyone placed their bets.

Harry was now laughing so hard his eyes were starting to tear. Charlie's expression was priceless. With each prediction, he would turn ghostly pale.

They heard someone come into the kitchen and Remus immediately vanished the board with a wave of his hand. Bill shoved the lottery into his pockets and picked up his book, pretending to read. Percy was nowhere to be seen, he had likely disappeared into his room, not wanting to be in such a noisy environment while he was reading.

Harry was fascinated by how quickly Ginny's expression turned to pure innocence in an instant. Ron was going for switching his features to angelic, not exactly reaching his goal. Harry was surprised how quickly Remus switched from being in the midst of joking to looking like a scholarly man who would never take a part in such affairs, just fumbling to open his gifts as if nothing at all had occurred. Harry raised an eyebrow, there was definitely a lot he didn't know about his new guardian.

Mrs. Weasley was pulling Arthur by the arm, "You can play with it later, Dear, I promise." She pulled the plane out of his Arthur's hands. He held onto it until his wife had given him a look.

"Alright, Molly." He watched with a pout as Molly placed the toy on a shelf.

Everyone was trying to hold in their laughter.

Harry watched while Remus was opening the few presents he had received, most were books he had wanted from Hagrid, the Weasleys, and Harry. Harry had also given him a new wool overcoat, his old one was in an atrocious state. He thanked the Weasleys for the book.

Remus gave Harry a wry smile. "Thank you, Harry. I needed one desperately."

"You're welcome. I really didn't forget. I bought it a few weeks ago while you weren't looking and I slipped it on the table right before we left to come here."

Remus ruffled his hair, still not meeting his eyes completely. "Sneaky one, aren't you?"

Harry smiled half-heartedly, still sad and confused by Remus's behavior. He grabbed his next present. It had a bright tag scribbled with the names 'Fred and George'. Harry opened his present, pointing it away from him; he was entirely surprised when a small mirror fell out. Harry picked it up, curiosity getting the

best of him, and he looked into it. When he saw his reflection, he started to laugh. 

Everyone gave him weird looks until he had passed it to Remus, who in turn chuckled. Remus recovered his composure faster and answered the questioning stares they were getting, while the twins were grinning. "It appears that this mirror has been charmed to make the viewer look like they have red hair, and freckles."

Everyone smiled. The twins winked at Harry, "We just thought it would be nice to see how you would look as a Weasley, Harry."

Harry smiled, stowing the mirror away. "It's excellent! Thanks."

"Not a problem, mate." They responded together.

He opened a few more presents from the Weasleys; a story book, some simple toys, and more sweets. He smiled gratefully at Arthur and Molly. Hagrid had given him a rock hard tea cake, and a large and messy brown quilt. It was sadly handmade and it looked like Hagrid had taken up knitting as a new hobby. Harry thought it was a practice he should quickly abandon, he clearly was not fit to knit, there were holes and careless patches where it looked like Hagrid had to wrestle his own limbs out after accidentally knitting parts of his body to the unfortunate creation. He held back a giggle, knowing his friend had worked hard on the present. He had to remember to thank him. He opened a present from Ginny, it was chocolate chip cookies, and a drawing was folded neatly around the jar.

Ginny blushed, her face rivaling the red of her hair. "I baked them myself. Mum's been teaching me and I wanted to make some for you. You don't have to eat them if you don't want to." She looked down at her hands.

Harry put a cookie in his mouth, "Yum! Ginny, what are you talking about?! These taste delicious. Best cookies I have ever tasted."

Ginny blushed but had a small smile playing on her lips.

Harry unfolded the paper wrapped around the jar. The drawing depicted the Burrow with all the family on the field in the back, behind the Burrow. Everyone was smiling and had a hand up as if they were waving. Harry noticed that he had been drawn in the picture, holding hands with Ginny. He smiled at the drawing. "Honestly, Ginny, thanks a lot. This is the first time I've been in any type of picture or drawing." Harry reflected back to the honesty of his statement, remembering how hurt he had been when his Aunt Petunia would add a new picture of Dudley on the mantle while sneering at him. His eyes began to glaze over when he felt Remus's hand on his shoulder.

"You okay? " Remus had a worried expression.

He looked up sadly to see most of the Weasleys trying to avoid his eyes uncomfortably, they had no idea what to say to such a comment. Something as familiar as being in photographs had been denied to Harry and they had no clue how to make him feel better. Mr. Weasley looked like he was gritting his teeth, his knuckles white, as he grasped the arm of the sofa tightly. Mrs. Weasley had a hand on her husband's shoulder, trying to calm him. Harry cleared his throat. "I'm fine," he answered ruefully.

Ginny handed him his last present, offering an unsure smile, she looked at him cautiously. The tension in the room was almost overwhelming. Harry gave her a twisted smile, took the present, and opened it, knowing it was from Remus. It was a large box full of clothes, a blank journal, a couple of quills, and some toys he remembered looking at. He thanked Remus whole-heartedly. He bit his trembling lip when he realized that he had just opened the first presents in his life. He couldn't even remember what the were, but he knew each one represented a new person in his life.

"You should really use the journal. It's a great tool at your disposal when you're having a difficult time." Remus told him as he looked away.

Placing it all back into the box, Harry nodded. 

Ron saved them from an awkward silence. "Look! It looks like there was a blizzard last night! Everything is covered in snow." Ron practically screamed out in excitement.

Hardly anyone could resist, so they all hurried to get dressed and played outside for most of the day. The twins teamed with Bill, and their father. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Remus, and Charlie got together. The twins won the snow ball fight, inventing a catapult of sorts from fallen tree limbs, and Bill charmed the snow to magically form balls and toss them over the ice fort that Arthur had created. After being charmed dry by Remus, Ron, Ginny, Charlie and Harry created a giant snowman. Apparently, the twins thought it would be funny to build a modified midget snowman that would grin and taunt anyone nearby. Charlie suggested that their own snowman needed a new spin on it, so Remus developed the brilliant idea of animating the snowman to dance and sing. After the excellent show of skill by Remus, Harry's team had won the competition by a sweep. It was spectacular; Molly had come outside to watch it after giving them their lunch sandwiches.

Percy had stayed inside; nose buried in his new study book until Bill levitated him outside and threatened to destroy his book if he didn't participate. Molly had then gone inside to finish making supper, while the rest of the clan had gathered around Arthur as he launched his plane into the sky.

Harry couldn't remember being happier, until he noticed Remus had the unusual look in his eyes, even if his uncle was joining in on the festivities.

When the temperature dropped low enough, they scurried inside, the family getting together to sing carols. Harry admitted they were terrible, they had absolutely no tune or pitch, even if Percy did play _some_ piano. They all laughed at their attempts to sing, which gave Harry the feeling they were accustomed to the yearly failure. They all seemed to enjoy it, even Percy was grinning.

Supper was delicious. Mrs. Weasley had roasted a whole pig, made some mash, and prepared a delicious fresh salad. They finished the meal with apple tart. The most eventful incident occurred soon after Harry had seen the twins slip some powder into Percy's juice. The twins had winked and snickered in their corner of the large table. Harry stifled a laugh back when a loud sound interrupted all conversation.

Harry watched Percy looking nervously around, clutching his stomach, while the twins started to laugh hysterically. The loud sound came from Percy again, this time most of the table burst into a fit of hysteria. The twins had slipped Percy some farting powder from the kit Harry had given them. Percy got up from the table abruptly; face a deep crimson, he ran to the bathroom completely humiliated. Even Mrs. Weasley was laughing, she didn't know about the twin's part in the prank of course.

After eating, Harry and Remus had gotten ready to depart. Ginny and Ron were really upset, pleading for Harry to stay for at least one more night. Remus firmly insisted they go home. Percy stayed in his room, most likely too embarrassed by the fiasco at the dinner table, he was probably researching a spell to reverse his existence or at least reverse time. Most of the Weasleys gave Harry a warm hug and joked of the day's exciting events. They even thanked Harry and Remus for their presents again. 

Harry stumbled out of the fire place, Remus making a perfectly graceful landing next to him. Harry switched the light on and almost shrieked out in surprise to find Dumbledore on the couch, turning pages to a book in his hands. Remus didn't react at all; he had expected Dumbledore to be waiting so that they could tell him the news together.

Dumbledore looked into Harry's eyes, standing up slowly, and letting out an unsteady breath. "Harry, there's been an unexpected development we need to inform you of."

_**A/N: Who doesn't love cliffhangers?!! REVIEW! AND... GO! PRESS THE REVIEW BUTTON! QUICK!!! I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!! lolol**_


	8. More Than a Couple of Candles

**A/N:** I hope you all really enjoy this chapter. Let's just say you up for a bit of action in the next_...--cough-_-**exciting duel**—_cough_---**new OC**---_cough_---**explains Harry's powers**---_cough_---**yitaply goes and gets a cough drop**--(jeez I hope that was discreet!)

; P

I'm so grateful to those that have reviewed. I'm sorry for not responding to them, but I will try to as soon as finals are out of the way. Thank you so much for taking the time out. Okay, I've already posted this story on a H/G site so that's why I have most of these chapters up fast. But let me address the same things here:

I was concerned when someone thought this was going to end up one of those stories where Harry just wakes up all powerful and Voldemort becomes only an annoyance...well, that is most definitely **NEVER** going to be the case here. As strong as you see Harry, **Voldy will still be able to laugh in his face** because of his weakness. Harry's magical growth will be very gradual and even the **Death Eaters** and the likes will be **very strong**. Again, even during his lessons, he might be better focused but I will **NEVER** make him a genius! Wouldn't that be boring, I mean the beauty of it is that Harry is so flawed, is it not? So, as strong as you see Harry now…trust me, it really won't look like much when the plot comes to play and **Voldy returns**. ---yitaply gasps dramatically for theatrical effect---(I'm sorry, I'm feeling particularly humorous today. Lol) **Gone are the days where Expelliarmus was the only spell!!!!** ---yitaply pumps fist in air and then decides that sounding like a activist might seem weird in accordance to fanfics---(I'm sorry, I'll stop now) Lol I want to get into some dangerous action and even more perilous situations! I mean, who doesn't love that?! lol Thanks for reading my ridiculously long A/N! Does anyone have any question about why I have Remus and Harry as main characters at the very moment? I will have plenty more main characters as the plot unfolds: HP/SS, H/G…etc.

**Disclaimer**: come on…like I could ever be the writing genius that is J.K Rowling. Obviously this is J.K HP baby; I just like to play with him. lol

**More Than A Couple of Candles**

_Harry stumbled out of the fire place, Remus making a perfectly graceful landing next to him. Harry switched the light on and almost shrieked out in surprise to find Dumbledore on the couch, turning pages to a book in his hands. Remus didn't react at all; he had expected Dumbledore to be waiting so that they could tell him the news together._

Dumbledore looked up, standing up slowly and letting out an unsteady breath. "Harry, there's been a new development we need to inform you of."

Staring at Harry with sorrow; loathing what they had to do, Remus steeled himself to speak the words he himself dreaded. "Harry, we need your testimony at the prosecution of your Uncle Vernon."

Harry stiffened and froze immediately, ears refusing to listen to the words being spoken. His emotions were squeezing painfully at his heart; a myriad of feeling trying to find release.

Anger; he thought he would never have to see his uncle again, that he could forget about him forever, push his time at the Dursleys' home to the recesses of his adolescent mind.

Fear; he didn't know if he could bear openly defying his uncle, the man who was likely to go into a towering rage when provoked. He had learned very early to try not to incense any of the Dursleys, and going against habit scared him.

_Would the people in his new life see him as a coward? Didn't a part of him believe he had deserved the strikes he had received? Was there really truth behind the words his guardians had fed to him about them not being able to help themselves because of the freakishness he represented? _

Pain; he would have to retell what he had suffered all those years in their home to an entire audience. Memories he had denied himself for so long would now have to be uncovered, and the last thing he wanted was for people in his new life to know what he had gone through.

Again, anger fought valiantly for all his emotions; anger he had to feel, anger at the two men before him that he had come to trust, anger at himself for what he was about to say. "I WON'T DO IT! LET HIM FREE FOR ALL I CARE!" Harry kicked the leg of a chair next to the fireplace, making it collapse at the power of the magically strengthened attack. His emerald eyes were blazing and moistening with angry tears.

His expression weary, Dumbledore stood up. He spoke in his practiced calm tone, "It's not that simple. If you don't testify, we don't have a solid case. Their defense was formulated upon the basis that you harmed yourself. The Dursleys are ready to accuse you of being mentally unstable, and declare that the loss of your parents has driven you to insanity. Most of the neighborhood believes the falsehoods created against you. They are ready to vouch for their neighbor and use their written testimonies to say your wounds were self-inflicted. The students at the school are so terrified of your brute of a cousin that they are ready to tell the court that you were the school bully."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "Harry, the Dursleys are doing everything in their power to have you locked up. They could, in fact, even demand you back into their custody and reclaim their legal guardianship. Furthermore, their lawyer is a squib, a distant cousin of Fudge's secretary, to be exact. He would likely take me to trial in front of the Wizengamot if I used magic to influence the results. Not to mention the fact that the Minister would find out about your emergence into our society and use all means to make you a ward of the Ministry, a pawn no less."

A painful pang in Harry's heart hitched his breath in his throat, "I DON"T WANT TO DO IT. I'LL HIDE WHERE THEY WILL NEVER FIND ME!" Large tears were cascading down Harry's pale cheeks, like a foreign substance going against accepted nature, almost like the tears were the very evidence of change and unconfronted past clashing. He raised his right hand to wipe them away, only to be repulsed by the large scar that ran through to his finger. He hastily threw his arm down, eyes clouding, seeking to escape the torture his heart had to endure. He had never felt so much before, no, he had never allowed himself to feel the epitome of pain that came with all feeling, physical or emotional.

Remus was shaking now, he looked at Dumbledore with a pained expression, expecting him to break the plan they had carefully formulated the day before, before Remus had gone into his hideout for his transformation.

The aging wizard stood solidly, gazing at the boy before him, taking in a calculating observation of Harry's turmoil.

Muting a strangled yell of disbelief at the lack of action on the Headmaster's part, Remus came forward almost angrily. "Harry, we don't have to do this. We can hide you away, but this case will threaten to be publicized dramatically in the Muggle world. It will make it impossible to be conspicuous anymore, even in the wizarding world. Your uncle has a top-notch lawyer and our defense is weak without your testimony. We would never allow you to go back, but your safety would be in jeopardy if word got out you were here. Not to mention the fact that we would be declared outlaws in both worlds. Dumbledore and I could be found guilty of kidnapping. Arthur did his best to get most of the people that came to the scene of your rescue to make a vow promising silence."

Harry's bottom lip trembled as he grasped a bookshelf; he didn't notice the wood freeze and crack under the strength of his grip. "I--I can't..." His nearly inaudible whisper trailed off, barely a sound at all. Harry looked at his hand, seeing the frozen wood; he bit his lip and hoped no one had noticed. He knew somehow that this would just add to the things that set him apart from everyone else.

_Why is it always me? Why hasn't anyone sat down and explained what those green flames, the fire at the playground, and the extra strength with the bullies was? Did they truly not know? Are they afraid to tell me?_ Those things had been worrying him endlessly, but he was afraid to find out the truth. He wasn't blind to see how they danced around the questions about him.

Harry tried to widen his hand so that he could cover up the wood, hoping no one would look at him-- he had a lot more other things to worry about. He was still battling himself on whether to participate in the hearing. Remus had told him that there was no way that he was to be forced to go back to the Dursleys; that had relieved him a bit. However, he didn't want to impose on Remus and make a decision that would affect both older men so much. He really despised making others suffer for him and he didn't want to make such a selfish choice that would make him hate himself forever, he had enough guilt as it was. The child part of him was screaming an insistent 'no!' to the trial, and the other part of him wanted to face his fears and conquer them.

Dumbledore gave Remus a look; they had specifically agreed not to inform Harry of the fact that they would never allow him to be released from their care, for obvious reasons.

Sharpening his eyes, Remus looked at him unbelievingly, "Our plan is faulty in all aspects. He is a child, Albus! I'd feel like a damn monster for using his worst fears to manipulate him."

"I understand that, Remus, this is a difficult task for me as well. But I am not willing to sacrifice his safety for anything. If they publicize this, it will leave us unprepared for any attempts on his life. The reason he was left in their care would amount to nothing. Harry is important and his safety will not be compromised for anything!" His tone was firm and stern, which only infuriated the werewolf.

"SAFETY?! GOOD THAT DID HIM WHEN YOU NEARLY FOUND HIM DEAD MORE THAN A MONTH AGO! HE IS IN SUCH A FRAGILE STATE I AM TERRIFIED WE WILL LOSE ALL THAT'S LEFT OF HIM! IT'S EATING AT ME TO SEE HIM SUFFER SO! IT'S LIKE ALL HE HAS EVER SUFFERED IS COMING TO THE SURFACE AND THREATENING TO SWALLOW HIM WHOLE!" Remus furiously refuted.

Remus paced back in forth, he was drained from his transformation and had used most of his energy to give Harry a Christmas he would never forget, but he had felt torn all day. He hated to put so much pressure on Harry, who was in a quite a state as it was. He hated even more to be angry at Dumbledore. Sometimes, the old wizard was so stubborn; he seemed to make mistakes in every corner, thinking he was doing the best. It was Remus's turn to take care of Harry, and he didn't appreciate the headmaster being up to his old tricks again.

The older wizard had also neglected to tell him that Harry's guardianship was dual, Dumbledore was completely charged of Harry's accounts and properties. If a legal decision had to be made for Harry, both of his guardians had to sign off on it. The only thing that really agitated him was the fact that Dumbledore had neglected to inform him of the arrangement. He had no idea what Dumbledore was playing at, but it irked him to know the headmaster would keep things from him.

Regret etched Dumbledore's old features, his face looking more human than ever before. His hands trembled as he removed his spectacles to wipe them clean distractedly, gathering his thoughts in the process. When he spoke again, it was almost gravely and full of the heavy weight of his own shortcoming, "I am well aware of the damage my carelessness has inflicted upon him. I have kept Harry in a blind spot of mine; I have only seen what I wanted to see. I may never be worthy to receive Harry's forgiveness, but there are reasons you are not aware of that compel me to seek for his protection with urgency."

A jolt of guilt assaulted Remus's gut at Dumbledore's speech. The guilt changed to curiosity as he pondered over the meaning of the last words. He was dumbfounded on what he could not possibly know about the danger surrounding Harry.

Harry's attention came back in an instant; he looked at Dumbledore, speaking in a tiny voice, "How long have you known about me?" He had known that Dumbledore had known of his existence, including the demise of his parents, and the catastrophe behind his lightning-bolt shaped scar, but he wanted to know how closely he had been watched in the past years.

The older men looked back at him, surprised at his presence. They had forgotten he was still in the room.

It was Dumbledore who spoke first, "We were both there when we found you that dreadful night, retrieving you from the ruins of your home. We all made decisions that day, and I conceived a plan to place you in your aunt and uncle's care. I never perceived that you would be treated so terribly. I recruited Arabella Figg to watch over you-"

"The Cat Lady? But, she didn't tell me anything...she would invite me in for tea...and she..but..she never...I never heard her talk about...any of this... The Dursleys would make me stay there when they went on long vacations when I was younger..." He looked on, perplexed that she had been watching out for him the entire time. In reality, he had hated that house. It had been pure torture. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Ms. Figg would just drone about her cats and show him pictures. The Dursleys had always sneered at him when he was forced to go there. It was an extension on some sort of sick, undeserved punishment.

If he was honest with himself, Dumbledore felt like Dementors were suffocating him with immense guilt. He was still keeping a staggering amount of information from Harry, but the more he got to know him, the more he wanted to protect him and let him have a normal life. "It was under my instructions that she bored you with her cats and acted a certain way to you. I thought that it would be better if you not become so attached to her, that you would insist upon being placed in her care. In reality, I knew that if an opportunity presented itself, the Dursleys would dump you anywhere, regardless of my deeming their home safe because of an ancient magic. She herself admitted to me that if the Dursleys had suspected your stay with her to be pleasant then they wouldn't have allowed you to visit again. You see, Ms. Figg would tell me about the verbal abuse you suffered, but the flaw in my plan was having placed too much trust in your caregivers to not suspect them of physical abuse. I thought I had placed you at the Dursleys' residence to keep you safe, Harry."

Harry took on an even more painful expression, his young mind not knowing how to take the piece of information that meant that when he had been alone, he had always had a lifeline not too far down the street. He thought about all those times he felt like escaping, when he considered dying on the streets by bad luck would have been better than by his uncle's hands. _Had it really been that easy?_ If he had just tried to show Ms. Figg a mark or gone over to her house when he had been hurt, could he have been saved earlier? His uncle had threatened terrible things if anyone got wind of his wounds. He had always kept them covered, it had even become a habit to mask his flinches and a grimace when moving was painful. Had his pride and fear gotten in the way when he tried his hardest to cover up his wounds from the unsuspecting world, not revealing vital information that could have freed him from his incarceration? Had he been so ashamed and depleted of self-worth that he hadn't cared to let someone know?

It was unbearably agonizing to think about the hearing and all those people, ready to make his life worse and say even more lies about him. It felt like a stab in the back, when most of those same people, he had carefully avoided and done nothing wrong around. To be honest, he had stood up for kids in his neighborhood for most of his life, to no avail, at the end of the day, he was still completely and utterly alone, only with a couple more scars and bruises to add to his ever increasing collection. It was torture to be hated for nothing at all, when he had been so lonely that he had silently begged for a snide or derogatory remark just to make sure he still existed.

Then, he thought about why he had been watched. Who was after him still and why? "I don't understand..." Harry's small voice exclaimed. "Who wants to hurt me?"

Remus looked at the cracked wood still being held by Harry's hand, impressed at the sheer power contained within his charge's fragile body. He had a hunch about the type of magic Harry was harnessing. He had to ring up an old friend soon, he thought to himself. The hair on the back of his neck was standing; he could practically feel the swirls of magic dancing in the atmosphere of the room at the discussions.

Remus carefully responded to Harry's question, "People who believe that your death will lead to the reincarnation of their fallen master. Trouble will arise for us if people knew you were here, Harry. Some people think you are their hero. Although you don't remember what happened, those people only see a constructed image of you--you as their valiant hero who will fight for them."

Harry's brow wrinkled with confusion. _Me a hero?_ He still found it difficult to understand how the public figured he was a hero at the age of one. The concept just didn't make any sense to him, and he found it strange how easily people would accept such an idea.

Remus took in Harry's expression, finding himself in need to explain further. "Bravery was a rarity back in those times of war, people were looking for someone who could save them from their cruel fates, save them from having to make a stand on their own and sacrifice their own lives. You may not understand now, but these people don't care how old you are. They will try to manipulate you, criticize you, put you in the limelight, and watch your every move. It is not a life anyone deserves, especially you, Harry."

Harry fell to his knees, helpless against the determination setting on his small face, eyes radiating with strength that had always resided and fueled his endurance in the plights of abuse he had withstood. His voice rang up in the room, like a scared nightingale, finally getting over his trepidation and taking his first flight, seeking only guidance on his way down. "I want to do it. If you think I should, I will. Will you be there to help me?" He directed his question to the room at large, eyes bearing trust he had only, as a rarity, offered. His heart was finally going to be bared to the world and he only wished they would not crush him.

Striding over, Remus looked into the eyes he had refused to look at all day as he hated himself, he embraced Harry in a hug. "I would never leave your side." The statement was simple, yet, it was loaded with a sincere vow for life. The vow alone was something Harry was too young to understand. Remus would be by his side no matter what it took. He would be there for Harry no matter what doubts filled him, he would raise him and charge forth through any obstacles they might face or butt heads on, he would offer his advice and guide him through life. He would offer himself as the protector of a child he knew he was fated to teach.

The barriers Remus had created his entire life, secluding himself from the population, hating himself for what he would become during the full moon, were down at last; allowing Harry to pass. The few friends he had been grateful to have, the longing for companionship he had always suppressed, the door that had been sealed since the calamity on one Halloween, years ago, the dead feeling that had overcome him- it all had taken flight, allowing Harry admittance. He was ready to try his hardest to be what Harry needed. He just hoped he wouldn't fail him, that his past wouldn't blind him and make him retreat to his old ways. He had a long way to go; Harry would have to be enough for now. He knew he would have issues with letting other people really in. And the fact that he was going into unknown territory terrified the scholarly side of him that always had to see the whole equation before taking a plunge.

Dumbledore spoke again, relief washing over him, "The hearing is on your birthday, Harry."

Remus let go of Harry, allowing him to look at the older man in the room.

Harry nodded his head solemnly, finding himself exhausted, numb.

Coming over to Harry, Dumbledore offered an aged hand, assisting him back to his feet. His gesture was awarded with a tiny smile from the boy. "There is someone I want you to speak to. She will assist you and talk to you. I need you to accept this help, Harry. Her credentials as a therapist are impressive and she has kindly agreed to take your case."

Harry looked at him cautiously, "I'm not crazy," he declared in a defensive tone.

Remus put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "We know that, Harry. We just think she can help with what you're feeling."

Blushing slightly, Harry looked down at his shoes, a little embarrassed about his outburst. He knew they meant well, and the last thing he wanted was for the people around him to be cautious around him. The silence that had befallen the Weasley house at his confession at having been in any pictures before hadn't gone unnoticed by him. He didn't want people to tiptoe around him, to be weary of what they said because they might send his fragile little mind into a lapse.

He was also sure that something had happened right after lunch on the day of his arrival, when they had sat in the circle to share things about themselves. It was like something that was nudging at him, something that he had forced to be forgotten somehow, like he had zoned out. The idea alone bothered him. He hated the vulnerability he was feeling most of all; if the therapist would help him put his past behind him and move forward, then he would accept the help. He had new friends he wanted to have fun with. For once in his life, he had something to look forward to. His thoughts wandered back to the present, his voice full of his new determination, "I want help," he said anxiously.

Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling madly, "Then you shall receive it, Harry."

Not long after Dumbledore had disappeared into the fire, Remus had helped Harry to bed and had fallen on his own mattress, feeling more drained than he could have ever thought possible. He thought back to Harry's confession the day before, right before he had left the Weasleys' to go meet Dumbledore. "All in good time," he whispered to the calm and restful room before succumbing to slumber.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP 

_July 29..._

Mind Healer Irene Watson sat in her manicured office. She was youthful in appearance, only in her mid-thirties. She had curly brown hair, tied back in its usual bun, a cream-colored suit, and amber irises, kept behind a pair of wire-framed spectacles. She was slender and quite average in height and appearance.

Albus Dumbledore had sought her out; she was one of the few witches and wizards in the psychology field. Sadly, just recently, due to lack of clientele, they had opened up their practice to all Muggles. This had her wand carefully stowed away in her desk drawer and the words 'Mind Healer' scraped off her cured-oak office door, which also added to the confusion of her title. To the Muggles, she was a doctor; to the wizards, a Mind Healer. The whole thing was confusing at best and she had to remember not to slip the wrong name at risk of being called insane by one of her own patients. Not that the changes were that new. They were taught, to a certain extent, and learned alongside, the Muggles in their school; although they did get extra lessons from other credited Mind Healers in the field before being given a Ministry approved license to practice. She curiously observed the boy before her.

Her newest patient was slumped in the comfy Teasdale settee in front of her, a young boy, and a famous one at that. Her secrecy had been demanded and she felt quite restrained from relaying any information to even her family. She did stick to the code of patient privacy, but she could at least give vague details and discuss her patients to an extent to receive professional opinions from her colleagues in her other cases; however, this special case forbade her from direct outside help.

Harry Potter, the boy before her, had suffered to such a severe extent she could not even place him in a category. He had been psychologically and physically maltreated, abused in all forms ranging from belittlement, degradation, physical torture, and even neglect. The effects of his mistreatment were extensive. Harry would freeze when he was disturbed by an image, he suppressed whole events, suffered lapses of memory loss, and would even resort to anger or magical self-preservation to shield himself.

Irene had found herself coming home and crying herself to sleep more often then not. Her husband had begun to get worried for her, even her two-year-old daughter was asking what was wrong with her mummy. 

Professionalism was crucial in the field. Detachment from the patient at large was sensitive, especially with children's cases. Harry's guardian, Remus, would sometimes sit in at her request and he would help Harry from zoning out. But it was a vigorous task, due to the fact that they had to go very slowly with the process. Some days, she would allow Harry to just talk about his days, sometimes, they would discuss a dreadful childhood experience, and others, she would help him heal by convincing him he was not at fault by discussing several scenarios and picking apart his opinion. Rewiring a child's mind to see the lies he had been told was a difficult process. 

Today was going to be a bad day. She had been told by Remus, that Harry had just had a nightmare that had left him silent for most of the following day. Due to the fact that they only met every two weeks, she was going to have to bring it up after Harry's tale of how he had gone to his friend's birthday party in March. She diligently wrote on her parchment; notes on Harry's progress in interaction and overall well-being.

_**Increased eye contact. Expressive hand gestures, not distracted by scar on arm, or subconsciously rubbing at his arm or leg. No nervous ticks or laughs.**_

"Ron, Ginny and I pulled a prank on the twins because last week, when we were tossing the Garden Gnomes, they put Everlasting glue on our shoes. When we went to throw the Gnomes, we fell forward with the angry little things still in our hands. We got some nasty bites, but Mrs. Weasley fixed us right up. They still laughed about their prank all day. Their mum punished them by making them clean the dishes from supper the Muggle way. You can imagine how that went, they were so frustrated after such a large load." 

_**Not taking childhood pranks as offensive, seeing situation as humorous. Good sign of reverting from undeserving attitude in participation in play activities.**_

"Did you really? That would have been quite hilarious to observe." She charismatically said.

Harry smiled at her, "It was. And, we got payback during Ron's birthday party. It was really good fun. Ginny said that she had never seen the twins with that look on their face. Fred and George told me I had the potential to join them. Ron planned the actual thing, I came up with the idea, and Ginny acted the decoy. The party was great too, they made a special plate of food with all of Ron's favorites, he had a large cake, and they got him most of the things he had asked for. He even liked the clothes I had gotten him. After years of having to wear my cousin's rags, I decided that I wanted to spare Ron of that. Ginny is the only one that gets new clothes because she's the only girl in the family for generations, but even sometimes, they go to the used clothes store for her."

_**Not flinching at mentioning clothing passed down from cousin. Concerned with friend's feelings and well-being. Relating to peers and wanting to help. Major progress that demonstrates growth, and using past to alleviate the situations of others. **_

"So, they aren't really wealthy. What do you think about that? Does that make you feel awkward or do you feel sorry for your friend?"

Irene observed as Harry put a hand to his chin in thought. "Not really. I wish Mr. Weasley was given more money so that Ron could be happier. But the Weasleys are a good family; they act so jolly all the time. They have love, food, a great place to live and explore, and they have each other. The Weasleys have everything anyone should ever want."

_**Leg tapping on the floor, eyes etched in longing, insecurity maybe. Interlocking fingers, running fingers over hand scar. Inevitable; the longing for such a large family after neglect. Proof of mistreatment. (Usable in trial: Insecurity, what he desires) A child his age should be materialistic, clingy to popular media, and would want to start gaining his independence from parenting figures. Harry is opposite; would give up all possessions for what the Weasleys have.**_

Irene used a finger to lift her spectacles back up to the bridge of her nose, observing Harry's movements, "Do you not feel you have that, Harry?"

_**Rubbing at scar, looking at the floor. Looking at Remus as if he is afraid to offend his guardian. Exactly as expected.**_

Harry knitted his brow, "I like Uncle Moony, it's just that they are different together. They were born into that life, they've always known each other, and work together that way."

Irene sent him an encouraging smile, "It's okay, Harry. I understand your explanation. Their dynamic is overall different. I mean, for one, each member of the family has a different role: the mother, brother, sister, father, daughter, and so on. It's understandable to long for that."

_**Remus offering needed support by simple nods. Harry looking comfortable again. Worthy guardian if custody trial arises.**_

"So, Harry, how do you like the company of your new friends?"

Harry gave her a wide smile, immediately loving the word 'friend', "Ginny, she's really nice but also funny. She knows exactly what to say and she's really smart too. Ron, he's a great bloke, he's brilliant at chess and he makes sure we're always busy doing something new. He has no problem letting me ask questions about the wizarding world, especially, since he's lived in it all his life. It's really funny when they all ask about Muggle stuff because they usually don't know how to say any of the words right! The twins are hilarious, although it wasn't that much fun to be at the end of on of their pranks, it's really great to watch. They make sure I have a good time."

"I'm really glad for you, Harry!" She changed her expression to a serious face after she let a silence settle. "Harry, can you tell me about your dream six days ago? I heard you had difficulty getting past it."

_**Face losing color, eyes glazing over, slight pick up of temperature in the room. Self-preservation kicking in, difficulty focusing on current conversation. I have feeling the dream was of past occurrence. Lamp flickering, Harry fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, lamp cracked. **_

Irene stood, straightening her skirt as she came over next to Harry, kneeling right in front of him. "Harry, it's healthier to just let out. We can work through it. Don't be ashamed to reveal it."

Harry looked at her reluctantly, features that of a haunted child, almost terrified. When he finally spoke, it was in a tiny voice which almost caused her tear up. "It w-was a rainy day. The lightning was so b-bright."

Irene watched Remus's face distort to near torturous recognition. "Harry, why are you scared of the lightning? Did the Dursleys do something to make you scared of it?"

Harry shook his head, his eyes still averted and looking at his shoes. "I-I have a bad nightmare when there's bad weather. I try so hard not to fall asleep, but sometimes, I mess up and I-I can't help it."

Irene was confused; she was the only one out of the loop. Remus had closed his eyes and had a hand cupping his face. Harry was now breathing shallowly. "What happens in the nightmare, Harry?"

Harry looked at her, pulling his legs to his chest, pinning them there with his arms, droplets of tears making their way down his small face. "It's all a blur that happens over and over again. Sometimes, I hear a man's voice too. I can't here what he's saying because of the rumbles of lightning. I don't think I want to hear it... I think he's saying goodbye. After that there's a scream of a woman, she's screaming my name. Then... there's a bright flash of light. I don't think it's lightning because it's green. It scares me and I don't know why. It ends with a feeling of flying in the sky. I hear this low rumble...I think it's a bike...or something...I don't know... Do you think it's real, like it's a memory?" Harry's emerald eyes bore into hers, hungry for the answer to a question she had no clue how to answer.

Remus finally looked up, "I- I am so sorry, Harry. I never imagined you had dreams of them...like that." His face was distorted with immense pain, his eyes looked haunted, dead.

Irene stood, going over to her desk for her mug of tea, pouring herself a fresh cup from a kettle next to it. "Remus, the green light..is it-?"

"The killing curse? Yes," his tone seemed far away and his voice was restrained as if he was using all his power to keep his emotions in check.

Irene turned around, looking into Harry's bright sorrowful eyes, "Harry, do you have an idea of who the people are?" She already knew the answer, it wasn't completely unusual for children who had traumatically lost their parents so suddenly to remember things they weren't really sure were memories. It was still only in a theoretical basis; however, there were documented cases of Magical children prone to recall events that most of the population would find impossible to remember.

Harry closed his eyes, "When I was smaller, I wasn't sure. Then, Dumbledore told me about my parents and I thought about it later. I think it's them, the night they...d-" Harry buried his head into his knees, trying to hold back the flow of tears that threatened to be released because of his aching heart. He lost the battle and a small sob escaped his lips.

Remus put a hand on his shoulder, picking him from his seat, rubbing his back in a soothing rhythm as Harry shook with tremors full of the reality of his reoccurring nightmare.

Harry didn't understand so much about what he had been denied, he really hadn't gotten to know his parents, but a part of him knew that a chip of his own heart was missing where they were meant to be. There was a hole that no amount of putty, gentle molding, or replacement would ever fill completely. It was painful enough that one dreaded memory was all he had of them. 

Harry wasn't even sure of what they looked like and, so far, he hadn't had the chance to bring up the topic. _Maybe it was better to not know what he had missed? Could he have had what the Weasleys have with his own parents still living?_ No one had any idea how much the idea hurt him, how he ached when he watched Mr. Weasley pick up Ron and place him on his shoulders. They had no idea how hard he tried to keep a mask up when Ginny was spun around as she laughed with glee. He knew that if he let them, he would gladly be received by the Weasley family, but he knew it wouldn't be the same. He would always be an outsider in a way...

Irene just watched as Remus fulfilled the role he had accepted-- a tedious and difficult task of rearing a fragile boy. A boy who had so many issues, someone so much like himself; losing the same people that had meant so much to them. She could tell that the boy was healing Remus as well. She had only had a few sessions with Remus Lupin, but she knew enough to know he was a tortured soul; a compassionate man who denied himself the pleasures of life. There was something he had hesitated to tell her; information about himself, that she was positive was a piece of the puzzle that was Remus Lupin. That didn't bother her; everyone was entitled to their secrets. After all, her first priority_ was_ Harry. She allowed them their private moment, summing up the day's session on her parchment.

Remus loosened his hold on Harry, looking deep into the boy's eyes, he was searching for the strength he knew he would find there. A strength and bravery he had seen in his best friends, a support he had grown accustomed to using in Harry. He was not disappointed. There, he revived a flutter of hope for a brighter tomorrow, a hope for a leader that he knew Harry would surely become. He helped Harry up, knowing that the session was over, whether Irene thought so or not. "He's done for today." 

The therapist frowned slightly, knowing he would leave no matter what she said. She ignored his comment, going over to Harry and crouching in front of him. "Harry, there is nothing anyone can say that will make such a traumatic experience better. But we can learn to cope and find satisfaction in different forms. Whenever a memory resurfaces or you have bad nightmare, I want you to think of a happy time or an event that you really enjoyed. Take deep breaths, close your eyes, and picture that memory. Okay?"

"Okay, Dr. Watson. I think I can try that." Harry wiped away his tears with his sleeve, sniffling.

She gave him a bright smile, "Good! Now, I heard we are going to have a birthday boy on our hands in just a few days?"

Harry smiled shyly, "Yes, I'll be ten!" He gladly held up all his fingers for her to see that he would never have to use single digits again. 

Irene laughed, getting up, and reaching behind her desk for a small box. "I know it's not much, but it's just a little something."

Harry opened his present. It was a small medallion that looked like a coin on a short leather cord. It was molded of copper with an embossment of some sort of symbol. "What is it?"

Irene grinned, enjoying the look of curiosity on Harry's face, "Well, you are aware that you have that hearing in a couple of days--"

"You'll be there, right?" Harry asked in a cautious voice, hoping she would show up so that the event wouldn't be so intimidating.

She grabbed his hand, holding the talisman with the rune, looking into his eyes. "I will absolutely be there for you, Harry. You won't be alone. There's nothing to be afraid of. Now...can you guess what the symbol means?"

Harry stared at the coin, wondering what it could mean, coming up dry. "No idea...," he admitted.

She laughed softly, "It stands for strength, support, and protection. It is said that if you grasp it in your hand when you're in need of something to aid you and help you along, that this will help." She held out the charm, watching as Harry's expression changed to one of interest. "On the stand in a couple days, I want you to hold on to this tightly and it will protect you from everything. It will give you the strength you need to do what you have to do."

"So, I just hold it, and it does all that?"

She smiled, "Yes, it does."

He took the charm from her hand, stowing it away in his pocket, "Thank you. I think I might need it."

She lifted herself up, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, "You're very welcome. I'll see you at the hearing, okay?"

Harry nodded.

Remus nodded at her with a farewell, leading Harry out the door.

Irene sat in the newly vacated seat that had held her patient. She let out a sigh full of the frustration she was feeling at her job, taking sips of her warm tea. Harry was one of the most difficult cases she had ever encountered. Since day one, she had been more than surprised to hear what the boy had been through. It was spectacular, almost miraculous, how Harry could be such a great kid. Most children with experiences not even half as bad would exhibit next to no socialization skills, non-responsive Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and have tantrums and violent lash-outs. He was truly an extraordinary child.

A full recovery was impossible, noting of course the extremity that had been his state of life, and the conditions he had suffered. Harry would have to continue to suppress memories. There was just no possible way to make that better. The only thing she could do was to lift his self-esteem, improve his social sills, and reduce the number of memory lapses to a degree. That was the most she could ever hope for. One day, when Harry fully matured, it would finally dawn on him how abusive his childhood really had been. Even then, Harry would likely act civil towards his only remaining blood family, regardless of the fact that there was a high chance that he would dislike them. It was just in his nature to be accepting and compassionate.

Right now, she wouldn't be surprised if Harry didn't hate the Dursleys, he probably felt no emotion towards them, but what he had suffered would have numbed all feeling. He was keen to erase them from his mind, almost erase most of his childhood; starting on a clean slate. When the time came, those around Harry would have to have the strength and love to save him when all that Harry would have to suppress, for now, came back to him. That was the most dangerous scenario she could think of; it was extremely contingent upon his strength and will. Which from her observations, Harry had plenty of. Only time could tell...

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Remus licked his finger of the offending frosting. Cursing, he redid the edge of his newest creation, using the green food coloring to top off the cake. He heard his small alarm ring; the small perimeter ward had been set to alert him if Harry had awoken early. The spell was accompanied by a silencing spell around the kitchen, and a charm to keep the delightful aroma from expelling into the living room where the sleeping Harry lay. He quickly stowed away the cake, immediately putting on a smile as he nonverbally lifted the spells and greeted Harry.

Harry wrung his eyes; he had hardly slept four hours. The though of his Uncle Vernon's trial had been eating at him. _How could I even think about my birthday?_ He got up, muttering a "good morning" to his caretaker before stalking into the bathroom to get ready for the day of his birthday, which was going to miserable. He quickly showered, glad that the water was warm enough to calm his nerves slightly. Finding his comb, he let out a frustrated grunt when his hair refused to flatten in the mirror. Giving up, and tucking in his long-sleeved blue shirt into his black dress trousers, he neatly pinned his small maroon tie to his collar. Turning off the lights, he exited the bathroom, feeling absolutely miserable, and holding the medallion his therapist had given him in his hand.

Remus smiled at Harry, "Happy Birthday!"

Harry sighed, "Thanks," his tone revealing how unenthusiastic he was about the event.

Remus frowned slightly, giving up on making Harry feel better when he, himself, was dreading the affair. He wasn't positive if he could control himself from getting violent with his adopted nephew's abuser. "I hate this as much as you do, Harry."

Giving him a slight smile before sitting down at the table, Harry prepared to spend the time he had left before he had to be in the courtroom wasting away in front of the clock.

"Oh, no you don't!" Remus went over to the toaster, removing two slices of bread and spreading them with jam. He handed them to Harry. "You will eat this. I knew you wouldn't want a full meal, but you need a little food in your system."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do I have to?"

Pushing the plate with the toast towards Harry, he sat down in front of him and crossed his arms. "Yes. Every last piece, we're not leaving until you do."

Harry groaned, glaring at Remus, and shoving a piece into his mouth. 

After Harry was finished with his food, he glanced up at the clock, noting that they should be leaving in a few minutes.

The fire roared and two forms stepped out. Dr. Irene Watson and Dumbledore greeted them.

Dumbledore waved his wand over himself, straightening his clean and expensive-looking Muggle suit. "Harry, let me explain the proceedings. You will wait with Healer Watson, remember to address her by 'Doctor' among the Muggles, while the opposing defense makes his case and calls upon his witnesses. Then it will be my turn to call upon other witnesses I have acquired. Finally, you will approach the stand, be sworn in, and then the opposing side will have the chance to ask you some questions. I'll make sure they don't take it too far. Then, there will be a small recess, in which the jury will deliberate, and the ruling will be passed. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head, "No, Sir. What...what will they ask me?"

Irene came over to Harry, putting her hand on top of his, "They need to ask you questions on what happened during you stay at the Dursleys'."

Harry's eyes revealed pain before he covered it up with a crooked smile, he removed his hand and stood from the table, grabbing his cup of milk and gulping it down. "I have my present, I know it'll help." Harry turned to Dumbledore, admiring the impressive suit on the older man, "So, you'll be my lawyer?"

Dumbledore nodded, "I have experience in law, although not Muggle, I have taken some time out to study their laws. Besides, I need to be there. We don't want the fact that you're a wizard to get out while you're retelling some of your experiences."

"So, you're going to do magic there? Won't they see you?" Harry asked eyebrows furrowed.

"Harry, my boy, this is simply my pointer," he held his wand out, winking at Harry. "I'll cast the charms so quickly that they won't even see a blur of color." Dumbledore grinned wittily, eyes twinkling brightly.

Harry laughed, "Isn't the other lawyer going to be watching for that?"

Dumbledore smirked, "Of course, but we have agreed that I will have to use at least some magic to make sure the Decree of Secrecy prevails. Your case is sensitive due to your status in the wizarding world and the fact that we need to keep the Ministry in the dark about you. Only the Minister's secretary knows of your presence and he has sworn an oath to protect your safety."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry was fumbling with the copper coin, he was really nervous. He was sworn in, and he sat down behind the stand. He looked at the crowd, hands starting to shake slightly. He had been waiting outside for a few hours in the lobby. He had been left alone with only the residing officer next to him after Dr. Watson had been called inside.

The Dursleys' lawyer was pacing in front of him, no doubt trying to work him up. He was quite large and was nearly completely bald with beady eyes, which made him look like a distant cousin of his Uncle Vernon.

"Tell me, be honest, have the Dursleys ever refused you shelter, schooling, or clothing?"

"No, but-"

"Isn't that, how do you say...the essentials for a growing boy like yourself? "

Harry looked down at his hands, "I gues-"

"'Yes' or 'No', Mr. Potter?"

"Yes." Harry flushed, holding tighter to his coin.

Dumbledore interrupted "My objection, your Honor, he is asking questions completely irrelevant to the child."

The judge picked up his gavel and hit it against its wooden pad. "Mr. Hardy, restrict to the context of this particular case."

"Very well, your Honor." Mr. Hardy put a hand to his tie, loosening it and glancing over at his client, who looked like an irate walrus ready to skin him alive. "No further questions for the present time being."

Dumbledore came up to Harry; he prepared a projector in the front of the courtroom. He held the clicker in his hand and the residing officer dimmed the lights. "I would like to present the jury with this evidence." The room gasped at the first image; a bloody chain, a picture of Harry huddled in the corner of the crumbled Dursley house, a picture of Harry's wounds, a skeletal x-ray of his broken ribs, and a recent photograph of Harry's permanent scars.

Harry closed his eyes, not needing to be reminded of the awful things. The jury was shocked and outraged, ready to pass on the sentence to the bastard who did it.

Dumbledore came over to Harry. "Harry, is the boy in those images you?"

Harry nodded his head, barely looking up.

"Who harmed you in such a cruel way?"

Biting his lip, Harry swallowed the ball in his throat, trying desperately to stay focused and keep his feelings far away.

The Headmaster put a hand on his shoulder. "All you have to do is point."

Harry lifted his hand and pointed it at his Uncle Vernon, not daring to look up.

Vernon Dursley stood up, "THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! Of course he's going to lie…that hooligan! He did it to himself. I saw it and my neighbors agree with me!!!"

Justice Cray restored order with his gavel. "Mr. Dursley, if you don't sit down, I will have my officers arrest you and lock you up for contempt!!!"

Vernon's features flashed with fury, the prosecution the Old Man had presented had been strong, his wife and son had chosen not to attend, and he was facing several years in federal prison. The Old Man had only had five witnesses; some hag from his own neighborhood that testified of the abuse Harry had received, a red-headed freak who had supposedly found Harry, a psychologist, a Doctor who seemed to struggle with saying he was a doctor- it made him suspicious because he didn't know what a 'Healer' was but the man had corrected himself when asked about his profession- and Harry's current guardian. To add to that, every time he had tried to speak of Harry's unnaturalness, something had hit him in the neck and he had forgotten what he had been about to say. His own lawyer was failing miserably at the strong prosecution he had not expected. He plopped himself down forcefully, glaring daggers at Harry, who was gazing intently at his hands as he shook and his bottom lip trembled.

From his peripheral vision, Harry saw Dumbledore lift his pointer (wand) and he felt warmth encompass him.

Dumbledore waited for the yells of outrage coming out of the audience to dissipate, more officers rushed in, keeping the crowd at bay. He still had images left that he had forged from his own memory and Arthur's. The process required a simple charm administered to the memory while it was in his Pensieve and the photograph would jump out. He asked for the lights to be dimmed again, an image of Harry's cupboard came into view. "Harry, is this where you have always lived?"

Harry looked down at his hands, "That was always my room."

"Didn't they have three extra bedrooms you could sleep in?"

Harry nodded, saying quietly, "They said I was vermin who didn't deserve someplace like that. That I was below anyone and that I was lucky enough just to be under a roof."

"Now, this looks like a very filthy place. There's a solid layer of dust, dirty furnishings, and spiders. Did your aunt or uncle care to clean it?"

"No, she always missed that room."

"There are stains in the corner of the carpet, many under your tiny cot. What are they?"

Harry turned a deep shade of red, even though Dr. Watson had explained it hadn't been his fault. "I had to go to the loo sometimes when they locked me up for days. And, the ones under the bed are blood. I would hide there after being hurt, too afraid that he would come back while I was sleeping and keep hitting me."

"We did find a lock, and the very chain you were beaten with was the same one that confined you in there, correct?"

"Yes."

"How long have they kept you in there consecutively as punishment?"

"A week maybe. I couldn't see the sun, so I was usually in the dark when they took the light bulb from my lamp."

"Did they give you food or water; I noticed there was a cat flap underneath the door."

"Sometimes... sometimes they gave me water every day, other times they would give me only some bread for the whole day, other days, they didn't give me anything."

"What could you, a child, do to warrant such atrocious treatment?"

Harry flushed and ducked his head; he hated to be up there, explaining things he never wanted another soul to know, things that revealed his vulnerability. Fortunately, Dumbledore had cast some type of magic on him to make him feel a little better, the warm sensation made it slightly bearable for some odd reason. He firmly grasped the coin in his hand. "Once, I was tripped by my cousin and I accidentally broke three plates. Another time, I brought home a sticker on my test, and they said that I had just done it to make Dudley look bad. I also got locked in there when I defended myself from my cousin's gang."

Dumbledore gave him an encouraging smile. "Tell me, Harry, did you enjoy staying with the Dursleys?"

Harry looked nervously around, he stole a glance at his seething uncle, and then he glanced over at Mrs. Watson, Remus, Doctor Gantry, and Mr. Weasley who were in the front row of the audience. They all seemed to give him silent signals of support. "My time there was worst than terrible," he said with conviction while looking straight into Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes.

The Headmaster turned around, eyebrows raised; as if to dare anyone to say he was not telling the truth. The effort was unnecessary; everyone was gazing at Harry with admiration. Dumbledore turned back to Harry, satisfied. "I wouldn't doubt it, Harry." He gave him a smile. "No further questions, Mr. Justice."

The judge looked at Dumbledore as if he would like nothing more than declare the case closed and make Dumbledore his new best friend. It was not difficult to see how impressed he was by Dumbledore's dexterity. "At this time, barristers (lawyers) are to commence their closing arguments before the ruling is passed. Let it be recorded by the court scribe that the defendant has declared a plea of innocence."

Nelson Hardy stood up from his straight-backed wooden chair, nervously wringing his hands. He had never in his life been put into such a difficult position. His cousin had warned him to not fiddle with the Headmaster, and he had been right. He felt certain he would lose the case exponentially. "The defendant here today is nothing more but a family man," he held up a picture of Vernon and his wife and son. "He has testified that the boy is nothing more than a good actor. The testimony in part of the prosecutor's witnesses calls for speculation."

He was greeted with murmurs of disbelief and hoots of disagreement.

He cleared his throat nervously trying to appear in unfazed by the interruption. "There is no direct evidence, other than what his nephew says, that pins him as the abuser. Shall we believe the word of a child who is known for lying, bullying, and fits of insanity?" There was an uproar of 'Boo' from the audience, which made him sweat profusely through his large and heavy tweed suit. He looked down at his notepad, noting he had about half a page to go. Losing his nerve, he sat down abruptly. "Nothing further." He poured himself a quick glass of water and gulped it down in one swig, trying his hardest not to hear the menacing bull huffing with anger next to him.

Dumbledore paced back and forth, waiting for a silence to settle. When he spoke, his voice was one of eloquence. "We have heard testimonies here today...that cannot be set aside as anything but fact. Harry Potter, the victim of heinous abuse at the hand of his uncle, cannot be called a liar. He has suffered aggravated assault by use of a metal chain, so severe, that had he not been rescued by one Arthur Weasley, he would not be here today. Furthermore, scarring on the victim and the evidence legally submitted in the form of the photographs, fully prove that the abuse was of regular occurrence. If we had not grudgingly conceded to an accord with the defendant's barrister, we would have been here today for attempted murder, if not murder, of a minor, which is a crime punishable by life in prison."

The audience echoed a chorus of angry whispers, agreeing that the defendant should have been charged fully for the extent of his crimes.

A twinkle was evident in Dumbledore's light-blue eyes at the reception his speech was receiving. "Let's not turn a deaf ear to a young child, who not only lost his parents not so long ago, but to a victim, a boy who has known nothing of love for most of his life. How can we pretend to not let his voice be heard when he's asking for help? How much longer will a tyrant, a bully of a man, a human being nothing short of a merciless monster, run free in our society?!"

The audience rang with applause.

Judge Cray called the room to order, restraining himself from clapping. "If there are no further proceedings, I would like to call a short adjournment of Her Majesties' Family Law Proceedings Court. Session is hereby called to recess by order of The Crown of England. The Hearing will be called to order immediately after the Mediation, which is taking place in the Chambers. Magistrates (or members of the British public who voluntarily give up their time to preside over the court who need have no formal legal qualifications, although they are trained in court procedures), shall proceed to the lobby at this time if they so wish. Members of the Bench also have permission to attend the Mediation taking place.

Harry was led to sit between Remus and Dumbledore.

Smiling down at Harry, Arthur squeezed his shoulder. "You did very well today, Harry. I knew you could do it."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He offered Mr. Weasley a small smile.

"I'm proud of you, Harry. That must have been very difficult to face head-on like that." Remus ruffled his hair.

Harry blushed, his heart soaring with a feeling he wasn't familiar with. He was beyond happy to hear those words, it felt good--the feeling was indescribable. Harry looked down at his shoes with a crooked grin."

Dr. Gantry and Dr. Watson gave him a 'congratulations' and said they had to leave, wishing him a 'Happy Birthday!' on their way out. Harry politely bid them farewell.

"Harry," Dumbledore addressed him, "you took that exceedingly well. I apologize for such questions, I know they put you in a difficult place, but I believe you won them over by an overwhelming number."

"It's okay, Sir," Harry leaned over to whisper in the older man's ear, "What was that thing you did to me that made me feel a little better?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I suppose you would have noticed. That was a Cheering Charm."

"Oh...Thanks." 

Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, "You're very welcome, Harry."

Harry kicked his feet; he really didn't have anything else better to do. He played with the buttons on his shirt, hating how uncomfortable dressing up felt.

Dumbledore seemed to notice, "I despise this blasted thing myself," he pointed to his own suit with a grimace of distaste, "I liked the fresh feeling that comes with my robes." He waved his arms widely as if to demonstrate a strong breeze. After years of wearing his cousin's rags, he was still trying to get used to close that actually fit him.

Harry laughed at Dumbledore's expression; he was oblivious to Remus and Arthur talking in hushed tones about a certain surprise birthday party. Instead, Dumbledore taught him a game called 'Rock, Paper, Scissors', only the witty wizard kept coming up with creatures and objects that were completely irrelevant.

Harry slammed his fist three times into his palm, before ending on 'Rock'. He rolled his eyes when Dumbledore Conjured a bright neon-green string out of thin air.

"I win." Dumbledore grinned.

Harry pouted. "How do you figure?"

Laughing heartily at the boy's expression, he ploughed ahead. "String," he said, twirling his string around Harry's fisted hand and knotting it, "can obviously tie up a rock. I again come out victorious."

Harry smiled, yelling out, "Cheater!"

Dumbledore pretended to sputter disbelievingly at the accusation, "I beg your pardon? Why, I would never!"

"You're cheating! The game is 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'! I don't hear 'String' in there anywhere!" Harry grinned, forgetting the day, and finding that the Headmaster's tactics swelled his mood to the better. Two can play at this game! 

Dumbledore feigned taking the comment into deep consideration "Actually, isn't string just a certain extension of the paper category?"

Harry pursed his lips, rolling his eyes. "Fine! Let's give it another go!"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Would I be so mistaken to take that as a challenge?"

"Yup." Harry grinned.

"Let's begin then!"

Harry smiled, a flicker of humor shinning in his eyes. He slammed his fist down three times on his palm and left his hand splayed out.

Dumbledore cocked his head in confusion, revealing he had played by the rules and had pair of scissors in his hand. "I believe I have won yet again!"

Harry smirked, his emerald shining with joy. "Ah, ah, ah, I did! I have a 'Hand'. My 'Hand' controls your scissors. I win!"

Chuckling madly, Dumbledore clasped a laughing Harry on the shoulder. "You really are a formidable opponent. Good show, Harry!"

"Well, I try, Sir." He smirked satisfactorily, crossing his arms, and puffing out his chest.

Just then, the judge called session to order, "We are ready to proceed with the verdict."

A conferring member for the Mediation stood, clearing his throat. "After deliberating, we have unanimously charged the defendant guilty in all counts."

There was general noise of assent at the ruling.

Justice Cray nodded, "Very well. Barristers please approach the bench.

Harry felt Dumbledore rise next to him, he kept his eyes firmly on his hands and wished the trial could be over already.

Dumbledore approached the judge, waiting to speak.

Justice Cray looked down on both of them. "It is my belief you two made a prior agreement on sentencing."

Dumbledore nodded. "We did, Mr. Justice. Upon various things, we agreed for the minimal sentence for his crime. I previously sat down with Mr. Potter a month beforehand and asked what he thought. He told me that Vernon Dursley should receive minimal prison time due to the fact that he is a competent father to his biological son, it was only on Harry that he released his inconsolable rage."

The judge turned to Hardy, "Can you confirm this?"

Hardy merely nodded.

Justice Cray sighed, "This is very unorthodox, we usually have the defendant charged in a private Chamber after a brief adjournment, but I got express permission from the Prime Minister for this in the form of a letter," he scratched his chin, "Very peculiar, I could have sworn the thing plopped down on my desk out of nowhere. Oh well, that's irrelevant." He turned to Dumbledore and said, "As long as I see documentation on Harry Potter's new legal guardianship, we will officially sentence Vernon Dursley for his crimes."

Dumbledore reached into his coat pocket, taking out a blank paper. "This is it."

Cray squinted his eyes trying to see the paper. "Pass it here." He reached for his spectacles, giving up the lack of actual print on the page to his terrible vision.

Dumbledore used his pointer to tap at the parchment, magically making the paper appear official. "These are the signatures," he smiled pleasantly at the judge."

"Oh, I see it. Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore. You may both sit." Judge Cray handed the parchment back, watching the two barristers return to their seats. He read out the sentence, "Vernon Dursley, for your verdict of guilt on the abuse of one Harry Potter, you are hereby sentenced to two years imprisonment with possibility of parole. I see fit to inform you, that this is the very minimum possible for the extent of your crimes."

Vernon Dursley let out a huff of pent up anger, knowing full well that if he lost control he would get much more than two years. He didn't look at anyone in the room as he was cuffed and taken by the officer. He kept his head down, trusting that his wife had meant it when she had told him that she would be there for him no matter the outcome of the blasted trial. She had been so insistent when she had visited him and sold the furniture for his bail, that she would get the minimum sentence for him.

To be honest, Vernon wasn't to sure of his actions anymore, a part of him knew he had gone a bit far, but Harry had always been undeserving of their hospitality. To add to his troubles, his son hadn't spoken a word since the day he had been expelled, and Petunia had told him he had been at the hospital, but she had kept tight-lipped about why. He had no idea what kind of deal his lawyer had done, but his plan had failed terribly and the lawyer he had mortgaged the house to get, had lost the trial so completely. He felt very bitter about the outcome. 

The only thing he could say for certain was that he would never have to hear the name 'Harry Potter' again, and he was glad that the unusable copy of his fool of a brother-in-law would now cease to exist in his memory. He would ban the name from being spoken in his house when he came home, he would burn all of the boy's possessions, and he would, once and for all, shed the last proof of unnaturalness.

He was sure Petunia would be glad of it, the very evidence that her loathed sister had lived on so quickly after her parents' murder, now gone forever to live in a world of freaks with dangerous criminal tendencies, as his wife had described it. They were rid of the magic that had murdered Petunia's parents, and that had branded Lily at fault. They sent the dreadful couple away the day they had appeared on the doorstep, he and Petunia didn't say a word to them as the Evans were buried.

They never did speak again, even though Lily kept sending those letters that were left unopened as they fueled their fire and generated heat, which was why Petunia had been baffled to find the horrid boy on the steps years back, knowing they had something dangerous that needed to be squashed and kept away from their Dudley. The boy had exhibited his freakishness early, and they were left with little choice but to keep him after the Old Man's letter. That was all in the past now, he was led to the Police vehicle, lowering his head and sitting down. 

Harry harbored a feeling of regret as he saw his uncle being lead away in cuffs. He would be damned if he told a soul that he pitied his uncle, but a part of him wished that things could have been different. Maybe if he hadn't been 'special', things would have turned out alright. He knew it was wrong to think that, but he couldn't help but feel it a shame that the only biological family he had left had always been a world apart, and that he had simply been on the wrong side of the fence where he had never belonged.

He was still baffled as to why they had hated him so much, and a part of him wanted to see his uncle punished, if not for what he had done, but maybe for what he had said. But as the thought crossed his mind, he felt terrible himself-- the man was decent enough with his own child and now he was going to prison for two years and lose his job and who knew what else. He found himself wondering if the trial was really worth it, it certainly didn't make him feel any better. He hadn't planned a vendetta of revenge after all, despite the fact that he had known nothing but cruelty from him.

Hell, he had been called 'Boy' so much, that at five, he had briefly thought that that had been his real name. His therapist had told him that it wasn't right to ever make a child wish he could die with beatings or words. He had seen the alarmed look in her face when he had told her the darkest feelings he had been forced to have, which was why he knew he could never mention it to another soul ever again.

To get past this, he would forget about the last ten years of hurt and leave it in the past, he was sure no one would benefit from knowing what he had been through. They were better off knowing things like that never really existed. And no matter what Dr. Watson said, he felt ashamed and weak to have been submitted to such treatment in the first place. He was shaken from his musings by Remus's voice, telling him they were going back to the flat to have a spot of tea with Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry exited the cab they had taken to the London flat, he got off after Dumbledore and Arthur. Remus followed right after them, paying the fare.

Arthur looked absolutely enthralled with the Muggle things around him, he placed a hand on the cab as if to memorize the shape and burn it into his memory. Harry pulled Arthur by the elbow when he started to observe a bicycle locked up near the steps of the building, making them pause on their way up to the flat.

Dumbledore walked next to Remus; he had transfigured his clothes back to wizard robes right after the hearing, as soon as they had reached an uncrowded stairway. The strange apparel had earned them stares from the public, wondering if he was a stage actor. Dumbledore didn't seem to care at all; he simply smiled merrily and went on his way.

They reached the door and Remus unlocked it with his key.

Harry walked inside the flat, glad to be back. He stretched an arm out to turn on the lights.

"SURPRISE!"

Harry stared in shock, taking staggering steps back. His mouth was agape as he realized that Hagrid and the rest of the Weasley clan (minus Charlie and Bill), were there. They held out a cake with green frosting and ten flaming candles. They started to sing 'Happy Birthday' as Harry stared blankly, frozen in place.

"Well, Harry, aren't you going to blow them out?" asked a smiling Mr. Weasley after the song had come to an end.

Dumbledore and Remus gave him a gentle shove forward.

Fred and George carried the cake over. 

"What are you waiting for, Harry?" Ginny wore a bright smile as she grabbed a hold of Harry's arm.

"Yeah, mate, if you do it faster, we can get on to the presents." Ron patted his shoulder as Harry looked at both of them.

"I will. I just want to look at them for a while," he said in a strained whisper, feeling his heart soar as he gazed at the dancing candles before him.

Fred chuckled, "You better get on it-"

"-We had to ward off Ron from your presents." George finished with a laugh at his younger brother's scowl.

Harry smiled. The presence of his newest family made him want to pause and cherish the moment. His emerald eyes flickered over the tearful gaze of Mrs. Weasley, Hagrid's smile, Percy--well never mind Percy, the twin's, Ginny's, and Ron's encouraging grins, the three men behind him that had helped him get there, and he knew he was home--a home that had nothing to do with the building he was in. It was the place his heart felt at ease and where, for the first time, he could begin to comprehend what love felt like. He leaned over and he took a deep breath, blowing out the candles on his first birthday cake ever.


	9. Like Old Friends

**  
Author's Notes:**

My favorite chapter so far! Yay! Thanks for all those that have reviewed, agin I am really sorry about not responding but I have about two weeks left of this Fall semester and have to study for finals. So bear with me please! This chapter is very long and required research into everything I looked up almost everything I could to make it accurate, I even did historical research, looked up name meanings, slang, drinks, locations, voices. I mean, I researched clothing and hairstyles too, mainly because my sis is a really good drawer and I commissioned her to do a drawing of my new OC. (Sis, if you're reading, go ahead and get on it) Also, this chapter is pretty much the backbone to my entire story as well as my first attempt at writing action...hopefully, it's good...if not, just give me suggestions or something! Thanks for reading, and review! It might be a lot to take in but I tried to balance it out with humor, action, and dialogue. Hope it worked because I am really new to this writing thing and this really is my first story. So I could use all the feedback you can give.

**Disclaimer**: -.- Same old. I don't own it, except the plot and OC and I bow down to JK. Queen of Potter world.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Hurry up, Harry!" Ron tugged at the bright orange blankets of the small cot that had been brought in to accommodate his new roommate, urging his very surprised friend (Ron was normally the last one up) to use his hands to lift himself off the bed sluggishly.

"What are you on about, Ron?" He yawned and blinked owlishly at the taller boy, almost knocking down the tank that contained Ron's large toad when he stretched out his arms.

Tossing a pair of old swimming trunks and a short-sleeved shirt at Harry, he voiced excitedly, "Dress quickly, mate! Mum is going to call us down for breakfast soon, and if our plan is going to work, we can't be a single minute late."

"What exactly are we doing?" Harry lifted his shirt off, slowly changing into the borrowed clothing. He sighed miserably when he realized how little of his blemishes the clothes covered. He had been wearing winter apparel so long that he felt entirely too exposed. Of course, he realized that the change was inevitable, '_But so were the questions_', he thought with a nervous flutter in his chest. Fighting back his darker thoughts and deciding to stick with the story Remus had helped him create; Harry saw Ron was ransacking his closet, looking for a clean shirt and a toy of some sort.

"Found it!" Ron smiled widely, showing Harry something that looked like a rubbery toad with a duck's bill and fish fins. It made an odd gurgling sound that sounded awfully like a draining toilet.

"What's that?" Harry asked, his expression showing his immediate distaste for the strange toy.

Ron grinned. "Twins' project. They stole Mum's wand and were practicing conjuring the most hideous toys. This one won out, so since then, we've been racing to see who can catch it in the water. It's really fast!"

Harry nodded his understanding.

"Oh, and to answer your question, we're going to swim in the lake out past the paddock. We try to go every Sunday after breakfast. The key is getting permission before Mum decides to give us chores."

Harry pulled on his trainers, listening to his friend. "Does it always work?" He asked curiously, knowing the Weasley matriarch was very astute when it came to her children.

Ron gave a small chuckle. "Sometimes she catches on and we end up having to finish all our chores before anything. But others, we usually get away with it. We aim for 'I-would-be-so-heartbroken-if-you-don't- let-us-go' faces." Ron pouted and fluttered his eyelashes, demonstrating which expression they thought was most effective.

Harry resisted the urge to snort at Ron's face; instead he looked up surprised. "And she falls for that?" he said, disbelief palpable in his voice. 

Giving him a classic mischievous smile that Harry knew the Weasleys were trademarked for, Ron responded, "Well, we have a very carefully set out plan. And, we have you," he added sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning red. "We're kind of counting on you for this one. We haven't been able to go for weeks."

Harry glared at the red-headed boy, thoroughly annoyed that he was part of a 'plan' without his consent. "Ron, why am _I_ a key part of this plan?"

"Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "all you really have to do is have a really innocent look on your face and put on a show for Mum. She's really taken to ya, Harry; I doubt she could say no."

Harry groaned exasperatedly. He finished tying his trainers, exited the room, and left Ron to get dressed. He made his way down from the fifth landing, where Ron's room was. He went straight for the door to the right of the last stair step, situated on the second landing. He brushed his teeth and relieved himself in the loo.

Looking into the mirror, he touched his most mysterious lightning-bolt-shaped scar with his finger lightly. The touch sent an eerie shiver down his spine. He lifted up his sleeve and saw that the scar on his right arm had become white and had thinned to relatively half the width of a standard pencil. The scar wound up his arm and to his back, over his right shoulder. He lifted up his shorts and saw it had a similar appearance. The soft blemish wound down his leg like a vine, starting at his waist, down his thigh, and to his ankle. He lifted his collar and looked down at the long imperfection that ran from his chest to his abdomen in a slanted line. He let out a deep breath after turning around and looking at other add-on to his terrible collection. A scar ran down his back with one longer line slashing through it from the left.

"Now, they're not so bad, Deary," an elderly, feminine voice chimed comfortingly from the mirror.

Jumping back and bracing the wall, Harry gasped for air, cursing himself for forgetting about the other magical mirror in the house. Mrs. Weasley had also charmed a mirror on top of the mantle to insult untidiness. Apparently, this one was for compliments or for boosting self-esteem at least.

"Er...thanks...I guess…" Harry closed his eyes, feeling incredibly ridiculous for speaking to an object. Remus's flat was strictly Muggle; he could, of course, perform magic with his wand, but Harry seldom saw him use magic at all. To be honest, he had never really thought about it until he had come to the Weasleys' and saw how often Mrs.Weasley used her wand for everything. _Time to ask Moony some questions_... he thought to himself, not for the first time either. He was starting to feel a bit peeved about how much was being kept from him. It wasn't like he was two or something!

"Really, dear, you look very handsome. Is there any way your hair would lie flat though?" The voice spoke sweetly, but Harry grew quickly annoyed with the talking mirror.

Harry scowled, his annoyance punctuating every word, "No, not really."

"And how old are you, little boy? Why, with your short and scrawny frame, you can't be more than six."

_Never mind. This mirror doesn't give compliments. So much for that!_ "I'm actually ten, um...errr...ma'am?"

"Really?! Have you seen a healer, dear? May I recommend plenty of dairy and ...maybe a couple of Stretching jinxes?"

_I officially hate this mirror!_ "I'll grow just fine on my own...thanks!" Harry said bitterly.

"Suit yourself, little guy!"

Harry was about to retort that he was not _that_ little when he heard a small knock.

"Is anyone in here? I need to get my hair tie," Ginny called through the door.

Harry blushed, hoping she hadn't heard him converse with the object. He quickly answered, "Yeah, it's me--Harry. I'm already finished." He opened the door, smiling at Ginny.

Ginny smiled back at him. "Good morning, Harry," she said cheerfully as she gathered her fiery hair into her hands and put it up in a messy ponytail with a maroon elastic near the faucet. She wore a white summer dress that she knew her mother adored, and she had on a blue one-piece bathing costume under it. 

"Morning. So we're really going swimming?" he inquired.

"Yup, if we play our cards right," she answered brightly.

"Oh..." he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, debating whether to tell her that he couldn't exactly swim. The only time he had tried was when Dudley and his friends had thrown him into a pond when he was six. He had panicked at first, no one had cared to teach him much of anything, let alone how to survive in water. Yet, much to the Dursleys' disappointment, he had managed to calm down enough make his way to the edge while grasping a log and kicking his legs.

A strange look crossed Ginny's face. "Harry?"

Harry shook himself. "Sorry, I-I guess I'll see you in a bit." He put on a smile that didn't reach his eyes and walked away, wondering how hard the Weasleys would laugh at him for not knowing how to swim.

"Harry, wait!" Ginny rushed to him and put a small hand on his arm to stop him. "You know how to swim right?" she asked kindly, not a single teasing note in her voice, for which Harry was grateful.

Blushing profusely, he looked down at his feet. "Umm...err...not exactly."

She offered a small smile. "That's okay, Harry. Daddy taught us years back when Mum told him to. I think she was scared we would fall into the lake and drown. Silly, really; the water used to always be warded with spells and alarms before."

Harry grinned. "So, you won't tell anyone, right?" he asked carefully.

"Nope, But I don't think anyone will make fun of you anyway. I taught a friend a summer ago, she lives nearby." Her face looked sad for a second before she recovered and put on a smile. "Don't worry, I can help."

"Thanks," he muttered feebly. He turned to meet Ron who was just coming down the stairs with Fred and George in tow.

"Top of the mornin' to ya, Harry!" Fred and George chorused together in a strange accent.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron, who shrugged in response. "Fine, you?" he said to both older boys.

"Spectacular!" cried George in a staged voice.

Fred wiped an imaginary tear, his voice much like his brother's. "Thanks to you-"

"-the Boy-Who-Lived, no less," George quipped for his brother.

Ron rolled his eyes at them, and then he added excitedly, "We're going to the lake today for sure!"

The twins pretended to be stricken that their brother would steal their sentence. Ginny groaned and pushed past her brothers, tapping both of the twins in the back. She winked at Harry and Ron, gliding down the stairs with a smirk her brothers would have been proud of. She made a signal with her fingers, crossing two digits together.

Laughing, Ron hurriedly whispered in Harry's ear, reminding him of the 'prank accomplished' signal they had created on Ron's birthday, when they had pranked the twins back. "She put notes on the twins back. Let's just say Mum won't be too pleased after reading them."

"Why?" Harry whispered back.

Ron grinned. "Well, it explains what happened to Mum's turnips last week."

"What happened to them?"

Chuckling, Ron leaned in closer, throwing glances at his brothers behind him. "They took a lawn mo' wart dad had charmed and took turns riding on it. The 'mowy thingy' is charmed to move really fast and you can't exactly control it. Naturally, we're forbidden from going into dad's shed, but the twins sneak in there all the time. Well, they were riding and went right over Mum's flower patch. She was right furious with us, and that's why we haven't been able to go out to the lake. The twins never confessed, so Mum punished all of us."

"Okay, but what did Ginny just do?"

Ron snickered. "We were lucky enough to get shots of them riding on the...'thingy' with Charlie's camera. I don't think they knew about it. Anyway, she put notes saying 'Mum, we have something to confess' on their backs. We're planning to use it for leverage later.'

Harry laughed. 

"Oi! What's so funny?!" demanded George.

"Nothing…nothing at all." Harry grinned, his emerald eyes dancing with mischief.

They descended the rest of the way down the stairs; Harry could almost feel the twins' suspicious stares piercing the back of his head.

Mrs. Weasley was turned around with her back to them, placing the blood pudding in a big bowl.

The table was a homey oak that seemed to be carved by hand. If Harry remembered correctly, the Weasleys' had said Rubeus Hagrid had had a hand in it. Harry picked the chair next to Ron. Fred and George sat on his other side, Mr. Weasley at the head of the table, Mrs. Weasley at the other head, and Ginny on other side, separated by a chair from Percy.

They quickly dug into the meal. Harry didn't notice most of the table was stealing glances at the now obvious scars. Mr. Weasley realized this just as Ron was about to open his mouth to speak.

"So, Harry, Professor Dumbledore will be by this evening to pick you up. We have to go to a very uneventful gathering tonight that's bound to be too boring for us to even think about forcing you to go. We thought it would be best for you just to run along with the Headmaster. Mr. Lupin was informed earlier of the arrangement, and he will pick you up from there at the time he and Dumbledore have agreed upon. Is this fine with you?"

Harry was busy chewing some eggs and simply nodded, he had already received an owl from Dumbledore the night before. He did notice that the sad look on Ginny's face was back as she looked down to her plate and shuffled her food around. Mrs. Weasley put a hand on her shoulder and whispered something in her ear that made her smile and nod.

"Harry, what's that on your arms?" asked Ron. "Ow!" He rubbed his leg with a scowl. "Mum, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, dear, just drink your juice."

"But you kic-"

"Finish your meal, Ronald Weasley!" she demanded sternly. She turned to her small daughter with a smile, hoping to drag the attention away from Harry. "You look lovely today, Ginny."

With a puzzled look at what her brother had just brought to light, Ginny observed Harry's scars quickly; she shuddered and turned away towards her mother. She forced a grin, hoping not to show how the thought of how Harry got those scars rattled her to the core, and replied, "Thanks Mum!" She turned her head towards her plate, intending to hide the fact that she felt more like crying than she did three days ago, when her mother had sat her down to give her news of what had transpired a few days before concerning her good friend.

Harry took a deep breath, making sure to avoid looking into anyone's eyes. "It happened before coming here."

"Is this when something happened to the house? You said something about that at Christmas," asked Fred curiously.

Arthur interrupted them with a stern tone, "Now boys, now is not the time for questions. It's time to ea-"

"It's okay Mr. Weasley." Harry gave a guilty look to the patriarch, pleading with his eyes for him to follow along. A small nod towards his plate gave Harry the go ahead. He had no idea he had discussed anything from that night with them before. He cleared his throat and attempted to make eye contact with his friends; he ended up looking at his own plate as he put on another fake smile.

"I did a bit of accidental magic at school, and I got expelled for it."

"What?!" Ron's eyes widened.

"They gave you the boot?" Fred said, amazed.

"Yeah, and my cousin got kicked out too. My uncle wasn't too happy about it. He chased me around the house until I took off through the window."

"Whoa!!!!" The three other boys said together.

"Well, I landed on the side of the house and made to jump to the neighbor's yard. All was going in my favor until I realized my neighbors had gotten coils of barbed wire to put on top of the chain link fence I had just attempted to get over. Mr. Cooper was always quite a coot, war veteran or something... I don't know. Anyway, I got myself into a bit of a mess by getting tangled in the sharp wire really good. Your dad was walking by and helped me out. Unfortunately, I'll be left with these scars forever." He shrugged and looked sadly at the blemishes for good measure.

Ron's and the twins' faces were lit up with fascination. Ginny gave Harry another look that was starting to make him unbelievably nervous, while Percy looked down on him with deep disapproval. Mrs. Weasley was red-faced and looked like she was ignoring the whole of Harry's lie. Harry was sort of surprised; he had said his concoction of a story so well that he was kind of starting to believe it himself.

Ginny wore a determined expression, her eyes downcast as she proceeded to stab her bacon as if it had offended her. "Well, what happened to the house then? You said something about that before."

Harry almost smacked himself on the head for not making up something else to explain about the house. He hadn't been prepared to include anything else into his made-up story. He still had no idea that he had ever spoken about it before. He rubbed his neck nervously. "Oh, the house...that...oh...when I was running through the house...my Uncle was kind of throwing things to slow me down. The telly will never be the same I reckon. Isn't that right, Mr. Weasley?" He let out a nervous laugh that felt strangled in his throat.

"That's exactly how it happened." Mr. Weasley put on a smile that looked more like a grimace, glancing back at Harry and Ginny.

Ginny nodded and went back to her food, her face clearly showing she wasn't done bringing up the topic; an almost sad or disappointed look encompassing her usually bright face. She knew very well how fake Harry's smile was, having just done the same thing for the past few days and counting. She was alarmed at seeing such scars on someone she regarded a friend, and she was going to make sure that he knew that she wasn't her brothers-- who were oblivious to the very end. _Boys_…she thought with a mental sigh.

"They look wicked," chorused the twins, in awe as they gaped at the twirling scar on his arm.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, prodding the blemish like a curious child poking a strange animal with a stick.

"I have some things to do. You boys can go to the lake today." Mrs. Weasley stood up from her chair. "Excuse me. Leave your plates on the table, I'll get them later." Without looking at a single person in the room, she turned, and exited at a hurried pace. Her face was unreadable, but she was angry, not at Harry, but at the Muggles who had forced him to lie because the truth was too much for any person to even be told!

She went into the kitchen and summoned the flour, starting on several batches of biscuits. As she bent over the flour, her own tears mixed with the dough she was pounding. She let no one see her and kept silent, beating the dough harder than it really called for. Not even the spell that she could use to knead the large mound for her was thought about; she made the whole thing by hand, releasing her rage with every hit.

Arthur didn't even watch his wife leave the room. He instead looked at the confused expressions of his children and Harry's downcast eyes.

Tugging at her father's shirt, Ginny called to her father, "Daddy, I can go too, right?"

He looked at her. "Yes, Pumpkin, just as long as Percy supervises."

Percy growled, "Father, do I have to? Charlie's barmy rat made a terrible mess of my book case, the wretched thing found my sugar quills in between a couple of my favorite novels. Ruined the lot of them! I was planning to dedicate my day into repairing it."

"Yes, son, you have to go. If not, Ginny wouldn't be able to join the rest of you." He looked pointedly at Harry which gave Harry the feeling that he was really the reason that Percy was required to go.

Fred lifted his head from his food. "It's not really necessary, Dad. Ginny swims better than...well…"

"-all of us," finished George.

Beaming at the unexpected back-up, Ginny turned back to her father expectantly.

"I don't see the problem with her not going. She's too little to hang out with us," Ron muttered under his breath.

Ginny glared at her brother. "I'm not little!" she declared in a deathly whisper that made Ron cringe.

Percy chimed in with a pompous voice, oblivious to Ginny's tightening fist, "Your height and age beg to differ, Ginevra."

Harry raised his head just in time to see the twins duck under the table with Ron. Percy gazed stupidly ahead. Harry watched in awe as Ginny's tiny figure stood up from her chair to stand beside her older brother, she poked him with her finger and yelled, "DON'T YOU EVER CALL ME GINEVRA AGAIN, PERCIVAL IGNATIUS WEASLEY!" Her dangerous voice boomed much like her mother's and the walls shook with fury. The glass pitcher of juice exploded, drenching the table in the apple and pumpkin combination. She turned to the rest of her brothers. "AND, THE NEXT PERSON TO CALL ME 'LITTLE' IS GOING TO REGRET IT FOR SURE!"

Percy, to his honor, attempted to not look scared; his eyes and less confident tone showed otherwise. "Ginevra, it's quite obvious you _are_ the smallest of seven. You are a little girl, after all." He began to sputter under Ginny's intensifying glare.

"That's a bunch of BAT BOGEYS!" She pointed at Percy furiously, not even surprised when large bogeys started to come out of a terrified Percy's nose, and started to attack his face. Charlie had told her about the hex, given it was the first time she had actually managed it, but her purely accidental explosion of magic seemed to have figured out what she had wanted it to do.

Arthur looked like he was restraining himself from laughing and Harry was completely shocked at the small package of a girl with temper to match her hair.

Ginny huffed and crossed her arms; her eyes teared up as she looked at her father.

Arthur, a fool for his little girl, called softly, "Come here, Pumpkin." He stretched his arms out and Ginny ran into them.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to break those things or do that to Percy. They just think I can't do anything and it makes me so mad."

Arthur hugged her and patted her head. "It's alright, Button. Daddy, will take care of it. Your mum won't even have to know. I placed a Silencing charm before you started."

Ginny gave him a thankful smile as he reversed the spell on Percy (who was on the floor punching at his own face and screaming) and fixed the table up.

Proudly smiling back at his daughter, Arthur kissed her on the head in front of a venomous Percy.

"Thank you, Daddy. You're the best." Ginny winked at a gaping Harry and skipped out of the room to the paddock. "Aren't you coming, Harry?" called Ginny cheerfully through the door.

"Umm...yeah." He got up and rushed outside, Ginny's brothers following _far_ behind him with a range of expressions. Percy hadn't even argued with his father and just furiously mumbled incoherent words under his breath. The twins and Ron were pale.

"It's a good thing Dad doesn't play favorites," Ron stated with a scowl.

The twins merely laughed and gazed at their only sister as if she was a force to be reckoned with, admiration evident on their faces.

Harry followed right behind Ginny, still shocked at the show at the table, and forgetting about his previous lie.

"Harry, when we get into the water, I want you to follow what I'm doing. I promise not to go into the deep parts until you're ready." Ginny looked back at him, letting him catch up to her.

"Er...okay." A pink blush crept up his neck.

Her chocolate-brown eyes scanned over him. "And, if you think I'm going to believe that rubbish story from earlier, then you have another thing coming."

Harry turned red and sputtered, "Well...err...I-It... It's...true... I don't know what..."

She put a small palm up, her eyes searching his face. "It's okay, Harry. Daddy told us bad things happened to you, and I know you don't want to share it."

Harry nodded in affirmation, a grateful smile on his face.

"I don't mind much if you don't want to talk. We all have our secrets. Just know I'm not that easy to lie to." She too felt like she didn't want to talk about what had her so upset lately or how she was trying with all her might to stay strong, especially for the upcoming event that Harry had been told he wasn't going to be forced to attend.

"Okay, point taken." He sent her a crooked grin.

"Although, if you don't mind me asking, what were those flames on your arms?" Ginny bit her lip, hopeful that he would answer her question.

"What?!" Harry's eyes widened. _They had seen that?!_

"Relax, Harry. We all saw it on Christmas Eve; you didn't remember the next day." The smallest Weasley was getting a bit worried at Harry's apparent distress with her innocent curiosity.

"Oh... It won't happen again. I haven't forgotten things like that for months now." Harry spoke softly, making sure she knew that he was done with the strange memory lapses, his eyes swimming with worry that she would think he was a freak of some sort.

"Oh, and...what about the flames?" Ginny wrung her hands, trying to be careful and not overstep her bounds, noticing the sudden shift in her raven-haired friend.

Harry stopped, turning around to find the boys several yards behind them (way out of hearing range). He wasn't sure why he had let the conversation go so far, but in a way, he thought he owed it to her for volunteering to help him out with swimming. "Honestly?"

She nodded, offering an encouraging smile.

"I don't really know." He continued walking as she followed next to him. "No one has quite explained it to me yet. It's a bit frustrating because I don't know a lot about magic."

"How does it feel? Does it burn? I've never seen someone do something like that before. I mean, the twins and my other brothers have managed to set things on fires when they were mad, but I've never seen someone's body light up like that. And, it was green, like your eyes." She blushed a little, ducking her head, and walking a bit faster than her friend.

Harry's anger threatened to boil over his lack of knowledge on what exactly he had the peculiar ability to do. Her confession over the fact that she had never witnessed flames like his own was bothering him more than he liked. "Great! The last thing I need is something else to set me apart from _absolutely_ everyone!" He let out a deep breath, cooling his temper immediately.

"Don't worry, we're forbidden from saying anything." Ginny glanced up at him, trying to convey the fact that she was there for him if he needed to talk. "Plus, if you keep my secrets, I'll keep yours."

"Good…" he paused, considering the question the small girl had asked that had almost set him off, he found himself wondering how it did feel. "It feels really warm and if I was feeling any pain, it makes me feel better." He had hoped he could have pieced together a better explanation, but he had done the best he could.

"Sounds nice..." Ginny looked back at him with a small smile, seeing Harry's newly somber mood, she opted to sprint. The youngest Weasley yelled, "Catch me if you can!!! Last one there is a toad's wart!" She proceeded to run as fast as she could towards their destination, trying to improve her newest friend's mood for the better.

Harry lifted his head and laughed, sprinting after her with the rest of the boys, now enthralled with the challenge and running faster behind him.

"It seems a bit unfair to me though!!" Harry hollered after her.

She turned around briefly, running backwards. "What?"

"I don't know any of your secrets." Harry was gaining on her and the other boys were still behind them, although it seemed Ron's long legs were helping him have an advantage over all of his older brothers.

Ginny just winked back at Harry with a small smile, turning back around and picking up speed. They watched as Ginny's impish figure swept through the tall blades of grass. Her bright white dress contrasted beautifully with her red and golden locks. Surprisingly enough, she won by a long stride, seconded only by Harry (who had always been particularly good at running from the constant practice he would get from running away from his cousin's gang). 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ 

Remus Lupin pushed his way past the group of wizards. The Irish breeze was making his light-brown, gray-speckled hair flop in the wind freely. His gray eyes were bright and alive, searching for any signs of the person he was seeking. He walked past the shouting shopkeepers and booth owners, his wand in his pocket. His hand was carefully resting right next to it, an old habit of the war never quite abandoning him.

His face, for the first time in many years, held a healthy glow. Even the paleness that followed the days after a full moon had not ruined his new cared-for appearance. It could be said that his clothes were a large improvement from the patched tatters he usually adorned. He was dressed in khaki trousers and a warm navy-blue jumper. The Irish bazaar was cluttered with people, a very unpleasant situation to the werewolf. He looked down at his watch, the moon was not glowing at all on the surface, a sure sign that the full moon had just passed, and the hand on the three indicated it was indeed the busiest time in the afternoon.

Suddenly, he saw a brisk movement from the corner of his eye. The movement was swift to a suspicious degree. The blur of black cloth between two stands for Whistling Wispies and Nutter Wobblers made him approach very slowly. There was a brief glimpse of a familiar dark cloak as the hue blended quickly into a crowd of wizards and their children looking at the toys in the same stands. He jogged hurriedly, grabbing his wand firmly; he stopped when he lost sight of his target. A break of a branch near the forest opening, right next to the hidden village, awoke his animalistic senses. He tapped his shoulder, Disillusioning himself, and tracked the scent using his increased sensitivities following a full moon to his advantage. He waited for the spell to take affect before walking through the same cluster of trees.

He looked to his right, wand raised before him, and he slowed his breathing so that he wouldn't give away his position. He heard a sound between some bushes to his left and threw a Stunning charm. The spell rebounded off the tree, never reaching its intended target. Remus cursed and ducked knowing the noise had been made so that his position would be given away. A black glob of light that Remus knew as the Suffocation Hex flew over his head.

Laughter echoed through the trees and Remus rolled his eyes. _Fine, he doesn't want to play fair, I won't either!_

"_Arboarceo!_" Remus jumped back, slashing his wand across the Cedar of Lebanon trees just ahead of him. The branches shot down spontaneously, forming would-be prisons with thick wooden bars, the trunk standing strong in the center. The sound shook the ground as the branches tore through the soil, burying themselves several feet deep.

The tree to the far right was ripped apart by a Blasting Curse; it exploded, sending dangerous debris flying in all directions.

Remus rolled just as a portion of the trunk, with the high probability of weighing several hundred pounds, narrowly missed him. A running form could be heard not too far from him as he lay on his back.

Suddenly, a jet of red light sped towards the werewolf.

"_Protego absorbeo!_" Remus' shield swallowed the Leg locker curse. He flicked his wand at his opponent, sending a Disarming spell straight at a grove of trees. He then heard a rustling of leaves moving around to him, which caused him to crawl and lean against a large Wellingtonia tree.

Seeing a dark blue flash of light, Remus quickly jumped to stand beside a large rock. He looked over at the tree and gave an annoyed snort. The tree was battered with three long gashes across the brown bark, exposing splintered pale wood. He gasped for breath, his body not adjusting well to the new physical movements it was now enduring. He couldn't believe it, that was could have been a lethal hit if he hadn't moved. _It was a Cutting curse for Merlin's sake!_ "A bit desperate, are we, you crazy dolt?!" His tone was serious but there was a touch of mirth at the familiarity with his acquaintance's usual welcome.

The voice laughed raucously. "I would think ya would have been used to your welcomes by now, ya ol' wolf!"

"They're a bit unorthodox, if you don't mind me saying." Remus swung himself off the rock, tossing his body in the air, and aiming at a heavily vegetated area to his right. Yelling "_Reducto!_" he saw his spell bounce off what could have only been a shield, before a blur moved quickly and blended in again to the bush.

"I never have been traditional, ya know that for truth!" The deep Irish voice sounded again, right before Remus heard a cracking sound next to him.

The noise grew louder, sounding like many branches being broken in half all at once. Remus chose not to move, not exactly knowing if he would be walking into a trap. Then, two trees tore themselves open, their cores breaking off into portions simultaneously, allowing them to create a curve. Remus watched the change, trying to evaluate his situation. The same sound right behind him was anything but comforting.

Just as the trunks moved to encase him in what can only be described as a timber coffin, Remus waved his wand, levitating a boulder to float just above his head because he had no time to jump out of the way. The violent trunks slammed into the boulder, causing them to tremble and snap backwards. Remus became very aware that a very deadly boulder was just above his head as he gasped for air hungrily, his wand was already straining to control the large object and was jerking in his hand. He wedged himself out of the wreckage of his would-be prison, successfully tearing his jumper and scraping his skin at the tight fit. He let the boulder collide with the ground after he had moved away far enough, hiding himself again after rechecking if his Disillusionment charm was working.

"Not in as good shape when you're not with me, are ya, Remus?" The other man chortled at his near win.

Locating the voice, Remus Lupin sent a silent "_Reducto_". A loud 'thump' and swearing indicated he had just hit his mark. Carefully emerging from behind his hiding place, the younger man approached where he thought his defeated company lay. Ragged breathing could be heard right in front of him and knew his friend had Disillusioned himself as well. He waved his wand at the spot with the indentations of a large bulk of body, and as the Disillusionment charm dispelled, Remus was welcomed with the sight of a long, slender, red mahogany wand, with a lavish golden handle, pointed at his throat.

"Bruce, is this always necessary?" He stared back at his long-time buddy with a bored expression on his face, unperturbed, as if a wand wasn't at his throat at all. His eyes observed the person he had not seen in a very long time. Liam Bruce Lorcan, sometimes referred to as Bruster, was as rugged as a rogue could be. He had thick black hair, he kept it in an unruly mess that came down around his neck and ears, and a beard closely trimmed to his chiseled jaw. Everyone who knew him knew to never call him Liam, for his late wife and long-gone friends had been the only ones to ever refer to him by his given name. It was a forbidden word unless you wanted a dagger pressing threateningly against your throat in mere seconds. The rogue cared little for the reminders of his past life; it was like his past had been erased. Only Remus, regretfully so, knew the real truth.

To say that a brush rarely saw a hair on the older man's head was an understatement. His eyes were his most amazing feature, they were an electric violet. The man was tall, with thick shoulders, and a muscular build. His face was tanned, as if he dwelled in the forest permanently. His face also held one large scar on his left cheek, and tattoos of questionable characters just above the blemish.

He wore large leather boots, custom-made wrist cuffs (sure to come with numerous defenses), and a black traveling wizard's cloak, which held many protective spells, making it shimmer. Under the cloak, he wore a pair of dark jeans with a dragon hide vest, for extra spell protection. Even so, his clothing looked so worn it appeared as if it had endured every weather the skies could throw at it, and as Remus gave it serious thought, it probably had.

Remus also knew that on his arms and various areas of his legs could be found enchanted weapons, potions, and miscellaneous, but useful, objects strapped to him. His torso held Celtic runes permanently marked with enchanted ink. The Celtic symbols for the numbers one to ten were branded on his knuckles, four of the marking were black, while six of them were stained red as welts. The skin there was puffed and lifted, the dark markings _were_ black, however, it wasn't like the enchanted ink on his body, it was like the runes were there by pure magic…a power seemed to echo from them at all times…like they were warded with layers of spells that only a trained wizard like Liam Bruce Lorcan could produce. He never told Remus what they were for, but Remus had formulated his own theories based on the information he had found out about his old business partner.

The man was in his late thirties, but his wild character made his age a world apart from himself. True, his eyes showed a mysterious darkness, and the abundance of scars on his face and body gave him the air of someone who had been through too much in a short amount of time. His would-be handsome face was marred by an unplaceble quality that framed him in near insanity.

"Are you still concealing yer true abilities, Remus? Doesn't it get a bit ol' for ya?"

Remus seemed to consider it for a moment before answering. "No, not really."

"Always the same... Misleading me to believe I could possibly surpass ya, just to find that ye were holding back. It's quite aggravating, may I add. And, I come of with different methods that I might escape ya, I was so sure my guile was unmatched today, that is until ya used yer damn wolfy advantages."

"Should I have stood there to be pummeled, or should I have waited be torn to shreds by a Cutting curse?!"

"That was my last resort; I thought I'd give ya a scrape I could brag about at least."

"How reassuring," Remus said with a frown.

Remus sensed that Bruce was up to something and rolled, just in time to miss what would have been a kick to the head. "Fancy a duel, I see?"

Raising his eyebrows as if to question why he would have any reason to think otherwise, Bruster held his wand up in challenge.

The gray-eyed werewolf smiled, he waved his wand in a fluid movement, muttering an incantation. Afterwards, he shoved his wand in his back pocket, watching as his friend repeated the same. They both extended their hands in the air and looked at each other in challenge. Out of thin air and into their awaiting hands, materialized two plain medieval style swords with golden hilts. They charged at each other at the same time. Remus twisted and planted his feet, the blades banged together obnoxiously, and the loud clanking noises rang over the tree tops.

"Jaysus, haven't seen ya in zonks," Bruster boomed in a deep Irish accent, conversing with the werewolf as he swung the sword in a downward cut to Remus' body and tried to get an advantage.

"Four years to be exact," Remus breathed out as he parried his opponents hit by pointing his sword down in a 45˚degree angle and sidestepping. He immediately went on the offensive, aiming at Bruce's right shoulder with a horizontal cut. His blade was parallel to the ground, which made the only blocking possible, a horizontal raise of Bruce's blade, centralized to his broad shoulders.

The rogue was too late to block the hit, his cloak stained red instantaneously. Luckily, the dragon hide vest took much of the central ridge and point of the sword, making the laceration superficial. Bruce rolled backwards, regaining his central balance, before going for a vertical thrust, his blade perpendicular to the ground and raised above his head. 

Remus waited until Bruce was about to strike before attempting to avoid the attack by raising his sword above his head as well, the silver blade parallel to the ground. His defensive move was done imperfectly when he realized that Bruce had cornered him by going into a tactical maneuver, making his plan to shift to his side difficult. The blade grazed Remus' cheek as the werewolf squatted and swung at his opponent's legs.

Caught by surprise, Bruce jumped up and fell backwards, landing on his back. As Remus was about to swing down his sword at the body of his prone friend, the taller man swung his legs from under him and countered the attack. They both focused on their foot work as they began to swing the swords at each other in various attacks. The swords were swinging, thrusting, striking. They were matched in skill, and knew from experience, their opponent's next likely move.

"Lucky for you, silver doesn't really kill ya, eh?" Smirking, Bruce met his eyes as their blades collided over and over again.

"Hardly matters, Bruce, you know that. You can barely get a swing on me anyway. Sometimes I think that myth should be true so that you could at least win once!" His tone was smug, but Remus's face was lit up with amusement.

The werewolf received a glare and his opponent's eyes gleamed with determination. Their swords met at the middle and Bruce smiled as he used his larger build and strength to work to his advantage. Their eyes met again as they pressed the blades of their swords together, using their strength to try to throw the other off. Remus took a chance, and instead swung at Bruce's side, knowing the chances of gaining on the well-toned rogue were quite low. Bruce caught the move and blocked.

Their faces were now drenched in sweat from the warm summer's day and their bodies were tiring.

"Had enough yet, Remus?" Bruster smirked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What? And let you win? Ha!" Remus retorted.

Chuckling, Bruce raised his sword and held the hilt with both hands, holding the sword out before his body in an invitation to continue.

Remus did the same and they stood facing each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. Remus charged, sword aimed for a horizontal cut to Bruce's right shoulder. Bruce readied himself to parry the obvious attack; his blade was vertical to his body. Smiling, just as he was to strike, Remus swung his sword at his opponent's right leg instead, lowering his weapon to an angle and connecting it with his target.

"Shite!" Bruster fell to the ground, his leg buckling from the strength of the collision. He dropped his weapon next to him, clenching his teeth, and putting pressure on his fresh wound.

With a satisfied expression, Remus pointed his sword at his fallen opponent. "Surrender?"

Bruster shot him a nasty glare. "Fine!"

Laughing, Remus threw down his sword, retrieving his wand from his back pocket.

Bruce was already halfway done healing his wounds with his own wand, a light encompassing the area as he mumbled "Episkey". Remus decided his help wasn't needed and healed the gash on his face, which had soaked his collar crimson. He did a quick Cleaning Charm on himself, repairing his jumper, and then looked down at his friend. Violet eyes stared back at him before the rogue showed an affable smile, his prior glare completely gone. Remus held a hand out, helping him up.

"Are you hurt seriously?" asked the victorious werewolf.

"Nothing but me bloody pride, I assure ye."

Remus let out a deep groan as he ducked again, narrowly missing another blow to the head. His muscles strained, screaming against the extraneous use. "Come on, Bruce. Let's be done with it!" he moaned.

The rogue chuckled. "I'm not going to chance losing face in front of me audience." 

"So, they are here? The Invisibles… I thought I smelled them briefly," Remus confessed as he blocked Bruce's fist with his palm.

"Ah, yes, they thought they'd see me off before me vacation; like to watch me doss with the eejit they say. They must have remembered to use the Givian powder I forgot to use myself. It covers up scent and confuses the senses. Brought it recently from some Scottish culchie down in Dundonnell." Bruce aimed a kick at his opponent's side, which Remus blocked with his leg and arm.

The lighter-haired man then aimed a punch to the rogue's ear, only clipping it as Bruce avoided the attack.

Bruster used his well-muscled arms to flip backwards and smashed his foot into Remus's chest after launching his body in the air.

The werewolf went flying across the opening, wincing as he landed sprawled on his back. He closed his eyes, breathing hard and clutching his chest as the other man watched him. He lifted himself up on shaky legs, regaining his stance and charging towards his opponent. He kicked off the ground and crushed his heel into Bruce's left shoulder. He followed his attack with a fore-knuckle fist to the rogue's stomach, extending his forefinger and making the punch deeper and more painful.

Bruce clenched his jaw to ward himself off from yelling out at the jolt of pain that coursed through his body. He instead pushed off Remus with a snap kick, connecting the ball of his foot with the werewolf's thigh.

They watched each other as they allowed themselves to catch their breaths, beads of sweat leaving wet trails on their faces. One man was clutching his shoulder, and the other his leg.

Remus held his arms out, ready to protect his vital points, as his opponent came forward. What followed was a flurry of movement, powered by technique and pure power. Fists were blocked with elbows or hands, averted, struck, and smashed into both hand-to-hand combatants equally.

They jumped back from each other again and Bruce launched into another attack, aiming a swivel wheel kick at Remus and connecting. Remus held on to Bruce's shoulder avoiding smashing into the large oak behind them, and head-butted the taller man, sending both of them to the ground.

Digging his nails into the dirt and spitting blood onto the ground, Remus looked over at the man heaving beside him, whose temple was bleeding slightly. He touched his own head and looked down at his own bloody fingertips, his head pounding.

Bruce was up first, having the advantage of not feeling like a sledgehammer had just come down on his gut. The older man healed his temple as Remus did the same, exclaiming, "There was no need to loaf me, you mingin' muppet!" in a pained voice as his head gave a brutal throb.

Remus willed his body to stand and stared fiercely at his opponent, allowing his magic to pump through his veins for once. The power flooded through his system, creating an aura around him. 

"Making it a bit interesting, eh, Remus?" said the darker-haired man as the ground seemed to shake underneath him, causing a strong wind to envelop them both. A force could be felt coming from the taller man in pale waves. "I was waiting for this very moment. May I?"

Remus nodded and took out his wand, his companion mimicked him.

The violet-eyed rogue put a palm in the air, feeling the magic around him as he mumbled an incantation and a gray ball began to spin in his hand. "Hmmm…it's flickering, Remus, haven't had much practice, eh? Yes, it used to be much bigger than this four years ago…"

Remus frowned and repeated the same, a violet ball forming in his hand, bigger than the one spinning in the older man's palm. "Yours is as strong as ever, Bruce. I see the Lorcan name never fades. Perhaps this is the power of the knights?" Remus questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Bruce smiled, twirling his wand in his fingers as he looked over at Remus's hand with a smug expression. "Ready to have a go? I must say you are at yer limit, you've been pushing yourself the whole time."

"Let's begin, Bruce; I didn't seek you out for a physical. And for the record, I had to sell my equipment after you disappeared those years ago," Remus said as he extended his wand and they walked towards each other. They bowed briefly and watched one another. "No disappearing acts in this one, old friend," the werewolf warned with double meaning.

"Why, of course, close range combat only. Let's see if yer shields still hold." Bruce laughed at Remus's raised eyebrow, knowing he had decided to not acknowledge the second meaning of the younger man's words. "Oh and just so ya know…I left ya a note."

Remus narrowed his eyes. "The one that you permanently glued to my forehead hardly counted! It said '_Au Revoir_' for Merlin's sake! Took a week to find the counter charm! Not that the Eye-Aversion spell hasn't come in handy lately, especially when I don't want people gazing at a particular location and Glamour charms fail," Remus mentioned thoughtfully.

Bruce Lorcan burst into laughter as he made the ball on his palm disappear. "It should have been sufficient. Besides, I wanted to try my hand at French!"

Smirking against his best wishes, Remus said, "It was mildly funny, I must admit. Except for the part where I was left high and dry _again!_"

"Well, I had business to attend to," placated the rogue vaguely.

"Ah, yes _business_…" Remus rolled his eyes and looked down at the tattooed knuckles of his friend.

"Are we going to begin?" Bruce tone sounded annoyed, and the violet in his eyes flashed with anticipation. It was he who made the first move; twisting his wand and yelling "_Expelliarmus!_"

Gritting his teeth, Remus conjured a shield, just as the powerful spell blew up against it and made him skid across the opening. His shield nearly collapsed at the sheer show of power. "_Clamora!_" Remus nearly bellowed the spell, waving his wand and trying to end their duel as quickly as possible.

An ear-splitting cry attacked the rogue's ears, worse than even a screaming banshee's, making him almost crumble to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut, "_Protego!_" he yelled, conjuring a shield as he tried to end the spell before it shattered his ear drum, while also trying to retain his concentration on the fight.

Remus tried to blast his opponent away while he was still in his vulnerable state; he sent the spell, filling it with as much power as he could muster. Unfortunately, the rogue conjured a shield just in time, deflecting the curse.

The older man managed to stop the sound before it did any serious damage, a dull ringing in his ears being the only side effect. "_Commoveo!_" He twisted his wand in the air rapidly.

As a purple jet of light came zooming towards Remus, he conjured another shield. He failed to make it strong enough, and his shield gave out, letting the beam connect with his chest. Remus was suspended in the air and shaken violently before he fell to the ground. He gasped for breath, feeling the beginnings of a pounding headache.

Bruce shook his head, coming towards his fallen companion and moving his cloak to the side. He searched inside a small pouch strapped to his belt, pulling out two small vials of Healing Potion. "Here ya are, ye ol' wolf!" He handed one of the bottles to Remus and drank the other one himself.

Remus exhaled gustily, his body unbelievably exhausted as he lay on the floor. "Thanks…" he got out, as he felt the effects of the potion heal his wounds and relieve his pounding head. He got up slowly.

"Apparate to the local?" asked a heavily breathing Bruster.

"Sure, any pub will do as long as we can get a booth away from prying ears. I have very important matters to discuss."

With raised eyebrows, Bruce voiced in an unusually serious tone, "As do I. Including a pressing issue that has come to me attention."

Remus stiffened; already suspecting what the rogue was going to say and dreading the impending conversation.

A twirl and spin on the spot later revealed that Bruce had already Apparated to the pub where Remus and he had first met, or when Bruce had recruited Remus more like it. He had effectively gotten the rogue a bit more interested in gathering the facts before he used his brute force to solve a problem. His first task had been breaking through an ancient tomb in Asia. He remembered the bizarre scene of robed wizards and witches seemingly coming out of nowhere and sweeping through the tunnel and chambers looking for something immediately after he had discerned how to make the stone wall open (Bruster had wanted to hit it with a Blasting curse, risking the collapse of the entire tomb). They had come across no finds and Bruce had told him that he was never to mention the people's presence. The entire day had been utterly ridiculous, the people moved almost like ghost, using Bruster as their spokesman or something. To the day, a few slipped facts later, he still had no idea of the identities of the group of people that had supposedly come to watch their companion duel. He stood on the spot hoping to sense their presence but came up dry; they had some bizarre ability to mask more than their identities it seemed. Frustrated, Remus turned and Apparated away with a faint 'Pop'. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ 

Bruster fixed the werewolf with a hard look, setting down his mug on the booth's table in a very intimidating way. "Let's cut this rendezvous short, shall we? Ya shouldn't be too flummoxed by what I'm about to say!"

Remus shifted in his seat, his eyes becoming dull, and sadness creeping into the light-gray like ink to a pool of water. "Bruce, please don't," he pleaded

"You've accomplished nothing in these four years since I last set eyes on ya! For goodness sakes, he's been in prison for what?...going on for-"

Remus cut across him with an almost desperate tone. "I tried a few times, but employment became even harder to find after you left. I fell into another bout of depression—deeper than any I had ever experienced. The years were hell, Bruce, not like the Wizengamot would listen to the pleas of a werewolf anyway!"

Sighing heavily, the rogue observed the friend he had left behind, knowing that his haste to leave had removed the only crutch the younger man had had in the world. Surprisingly enough, as he had first set eyes on his friend from across the Irish bazaar he had thought that perhaps his sources from a few months back had been mistaken about Remus. He had been told that the man was drinking himself to death. The man he had spotted in that marketplace seemed healthy; in fact, he seemed in better mental shape than he had ever been in his life. You could almost say that Bruce had only known him at a functioning level, and that the werewolf before him was…happy.

Allowing a few seconds of silence to pass, Bruce spoke. "I got a lead on a location of someone from me past then. Fecking skanger eluded us for a while, but I…,"he searched for the right word, his expression showing he was deep in though, "_caught_ up with him… The rogue rubbed his knuckle subconsciously, not realizing his actions until he noticed Remus had been looking down at the unintentional evidence that he had indeed been _productive_ since his departure. Overwhelming evidence could be found in fresh scars on the rogue's body, proof that he had been alone in the end to accomplish his 'task'.

Remus' eyes strayed from the rogue's knuckles, settling on the people currently in the bar as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Bruce's companions.

"They're not here — we've parted ways again," stated the older man matter-of-factly, almost like he had read his mind.

"I'd say the Legendary Guardians of Venificus Latito have renounced much of the old ways," Remus stated simply. "I never would have guessed they would participate in this!" He motioned with his hand at nothing in particular, disgust and an air of defeat evident in his tone.

"Times change, Remus, the wizard ministries are going to the bloody dogs. Justice isn't what it used to be; we simply attempt to restore the sacred balance. But I did not return to speak of this." The violet-eyed man's expression had changed to a blazing intensity, his posture becoming defensive.

"Not you, Bruce. You don't change. You're in this forever standstill. Drawing me in to these insane thrill rides. We've been dragon trainers in Romania, magizoologists in the Amazon, naturalists that climb mountains to document magical creatures, magic warders, architects or builders for magical sites, and even bloody tomb raiders; all those crazy adventures fueled by some desperate need to overcome some unforeseen shadow that you seem to carry with you. Hell, years ago, those times were the most freedom I have ever experienced, I stopped drinking myself to death in that period, but it was a farce of recuperation. Half the 'jobs' you found for us were either illegal or so insane that no one without some psychotic death wish would do them." Remus let out a breath, his brain buzzing from the effect of his past swimming in his head like some hazardous tornado.

Remembering how close to the edge he had been before a crazy character had asked for his help with translating some runes in the far-off land of Asia, saying he needed a bibliophile like himself for the job, was not a thing Remus did lightly. It made too much of an opening for his worst and darkest memories to seep through. One memory in particular was one he was desperate to never go back to, forcing him to wait until he knew he could do more about the situation. Remus, of course, had recognized Bruce as soon as his name had been given those years back, three years after his life had been ripped to shreds and he had been burdened with burying his only friends, or been helpless against helping another — it led to the same conclusion…he was a failure. 

It was something that Remus took no pleasure in submerging himself in. His brief business partnership with the rogue had given him a temporary hiatus from sulking in his past, a chance to let his wild side bloom and take over for his crippled state. It had been too easy to forget at that time, and a promise of action on his part before his only friend's long departure had helped him sink deeper than ever before, bringing him up to date on how broken he had been before he had welcomed an emerald-eyed ten-year-old into his life. He dragged the memories back, coming back to reality and realizing Bruster had just spoken.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Always beneath the brilliant violent flames of Bruce's eyes were constant shadows, sullen and haunting in the background. It framed his eyes in an intensity that he worked hard to hide, an almost bestial sense of duty that was fueled by his own desire to accomplish whatever vendetta he had long ago vowed to complete.

"We have discussed this before," Remus said slowly, fully aware that their conversation could lead to a brawl if he wasn't careful. "I didn't mean to drag the past back; I just needed to get that off my chest. Our adventures long ago worsened my state…I didn't deal with anything then and your 'jobs' for us were…" Remus stopped, knowing that if he didn't deliver his point soon the rogue next to him was going to break his limbs like twigs.

Bruster stared at the man sitting next to him, his anger slowly dissipating, and humor flickering in his eyes. "I take it you won't be takin' me up on me offer to tame hippogriffs up in the mountains? It would be an easy task to wrangle them in, but if you're too good for--"

"Bruce," Remus cut across him, holding his palm up to demonstrate that he really hadn't meant to get into it, "I understand what happened those years ago, I have no one but myself to blame, especially not you. I don't think I would have made it if you hadn't given me that time to release my thoughts from crushing me under the weight of them. But I can't do that anymore," he stated simply. He frowned when he realized Bruce was grinning, having been joking.

The older man took a swig of his dark lager, his shoulders slack and relaxed against the back of his seat. "I figured as much, which is why I have a tutoring job all set up for both of us. Now seriously, how've you been, Remus?"

"I'm not too sure. Many things have occurred since last we met. I find myself burdened with major responsibilities."

"Responsibilities? Caring for yourself has never been your strong point, mate," Bruster stated truthfully, eying the werewolf speculatively.

"It's not my first priority even now, but I've stopped drinking and I might put a damper on our drifting for quite a while." Remus took a sip of his coffee, watching the swirling foam on the top before looking back at his companion.

Bruster threw him a strange look. "You stopped drinking for good? I noticed something strange or _healthy_ about you as soon as I saw ya." Bruster wrinkled his nose and shook his head like it was an immense pity that he had given up spirits for good.

Remus chuckled, an air of nostalgia overcoming him. "Pity, really, I know spirits should be important. However, we must get to the _real_ reason as to why I have contacted you."

Looking at the werewolf, who bore an unreadable expression, Bruster frowned deeply in disapproval. "Ye didn't impregnate one of your one-nighters, did ya?" He let out a huff of air. "I forewarned ye about that, I knew it was going to come back to bite ya in the arse. Excuse the expression."

Remus swiftly looked around to make sure no one was listening, "NO! I did NOT impregnate anyone, Bruce. Good lord! And I do not strut about seducing women to bed!" He was incredulous and his eyes were wide with disbelief at the way the conversation was going.

Bruce coughed."Can't say the same few years back, he woke up in the nip on _my_ bloody bed with a hangover and a fecking damsel beside him. I was laughing me cacks off harder than ever before in me bloody life!"

"Bruce! I'm not Siri...him," Remus said indignantly, trying to hush his voice as much as possible to avoid attracting attention, and turning a brilliant shade of red; his mind briefly shifting to a memory from many years ago, when he had been so drunk one night he had woken up with a woman beside him. The whole situation had become painfully humiliating when Bruster had entered his own bedroom to find both of them waking to an awkward conversation. The woman had been attractive enough, but once she had opened her mouth it had been mindless babble. He had been more than eager to see her go on home, he didn't even recall her name, and he probably had never learned it before he relieved his manly urges. He could hardly live a life of celibacy, but he just wasn't...he didn't know what he wanted. A romance was out of the question but one-nighters made him uncomfortable and hardly fitted his personal morals. He was interrupted from his musings by Bruce's voice.

"Something else that's got ya tied up? Perhaps you're in trouble with the law? Wait, surely not the cool-headed Remus Lupin… Maybe to break our dear ol' friend out of prison, the mangy fur ball needs a break from them nasty Dementors? Oh, perhaps the wolf has come across the realization that I, as a dear friend, have become crucial to your training cause you've let yourself go so severely? Ah, got it! My leave was so unbearable that you find that you need my outrageous stunts and expertise to find even more dangerous adventures to embark in?" Bruce's suggestions were said in a highly amused tone that did nothing to appease Remus.

Ignoring his questions, Remus gave Bruster a warning look before jumping into the subject that was the real reason that he had contacted his old friend. "There's a boy I met who has peculiar abilities."

"A wizard? How old is the lad?"

"He recently turned ten. He also just found out he was a wizard."

Wrinkling his brow, the rogue asked, "Muggleborn with strange abilities?"

"No. Although he has lived among Muggle relatives for most of his life, he was not born to them. I must ask you if you have ever heard about an event occurring like the one I'm about tell you…during a moment of lethal abuse, the boy used magic to produce green flames. The flames caused the house to explode with a strange, but powerful force. Following that, the flames covered his body, so that his wounds were suspended in a state of non-animation; it sustained his life for an extended period of time."

"What do you mean? Like Floo flames," Bruster joked.

Remus tossed another warning glare to the rogue. "Now as you know, mana is that little tricky energy that all life forms are made of, it's the very thing that makes up our souls and the thing that passes on to the other world. To us 'special' and 'magical' few, this is also the energy and power our magic feeds upon. Overuse without the chance for regeneration, sleep, exercise, sun, food, whatever, can lead to magical exhaustion."

Interested, Bruce tried to comprehend where Remus was going by regurgitating the 'very basic' information, his forehead creased in concentration. "Are you saying that a child somehow animated his power to form said 'flames'?" He bent his index and middle digits as emphasis of his reluctance to believe that such a rare ability could be discovered on such a young child, whose magic has yet to mature. 

"No, I think it's a manifestation of his power at his highest emotional stimulus. When he is hurt and weak, the flames consume his body and sustain him; it's like an extension of his magic as a life force. He has absolutely no real control of it as of right now." Remus checked his friend was still listening before he continued with a hesitant tone, "I was thinking that he could be an Elementalist? I suspect he has more than one to control from what I have seen."

Surprised, Bruce looked down at his hands, thinking of the possibilities with his thick eyebrows arched. "That is very rare, Remus. It's…I think we should find more reasonable answers, ol' friend. I mean, in every decade only few people of a generation or so in the _entire_ world will be born with that gift. And even then, the wielder will likely be born with only one to control, and the degrees of what he can do are going to be very limited."

Remus considered the other man's words, whose expertise on the matter was beyond his own. He decided to tell his companion of the revelations he had made since he had left Harry at the Weasleys' days ago, telling his charge that he had many errands to run and that he would be better off having fun with his friends. "The boy was expelled from his Muggle school for performing very serious bits of magic that had me very concerned. At the playground, he was bullied by his cousin and his gang of brutes. The relatives he stayed with hated him very much, so the boy in question was in an emotionally vulnerable state," Remus said the last with difficulty, blaming himself for not visiting Harry and checking out the living conditions that his best friend's son had been subjected to for years.

Clearing his throat, Remus began again, trying to get to the matter at hand for his very interested friend. "The first thing he did was set a bush aflame after being provoked by another boy. I visited the bushes and the flames were normal, it was what has been deemed by the alchemic works of Paracelsus as Elemental magic."

"Remus," Bruce ran a hand through his hair, speaking slowly, "How do ya know it was Elemental? It could have simply ignited on fire by _normal_ accidental magic…ya probably didn't check properly, sounds more like complete blarney to me… Did ya-"

" — do the Detection Spell correctly?" Remus exhaled, getting annoyed by his companion's reluctance to believe that such ability _was_ possible, only improbable. "Yes, Bruce, I must have done it about twenty times to make certain of what I was seeing."

"What color was it?" questioned the still skeptical rogue.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Blue, Bruce…"

"That's Elemental," muttered the werewolf, like he had been the one to fall upon the discovery himself.

His eyebrows raised, Remus sent a piercing glare at the older man, before sarcastically congratulating him for his revelation. "Thank you Bruce, for your hard investigation into the matter. I couldn't have done it without you."

Bruster chuckled, realizing what he had done. "Fair play, alright, enough of that! Bang on then, get to the part that proves this lad has 'several' and 'advanced' control of the Elements. I need to hear this for sure! Begin with the exploding home, me ears are wide open!" Bruster positively grinned, putting his heavy boots on top of the bench they were on, and reclining.

Remus frowned, disliking the wording of his friend's request. "As I was saying, I visited the sites where I was told the events occurred and performed the Detection Spell on there as well. I did not see the scene before the Magical Reversal Squad stepped in, but I was given the chance to see the memories from someone who rescued the boy from the house. I must say, what I saw surprised me. The manifestation of his mana energy was well pronounced, and when I visited the house I sensed the Elemental energy as soon as I got there. Bruce, it was positive, the whole surrounding area glowed blue. Which leads me to believe, that in his vulnerable and critical state, his magic defended him. It was like his anger flared, and fed by his reacting mana, his Elemental affinity for Wind created a vacuum so strong that it caused an explosion. I can't explain it, but I believe that since emotions have a direct link, that his magic took over for his mind, almost protecting itself from destruction by the…death of the Elementalist." Remus visibly gulped, fearing that the traumatic event had awoken powers that Harry neither had the physical or mental ability to keep under his control yet.

"That's a dangerous situation, especially for a ten-year-old." Bruce drained his freshly served whiskey after a beautiful waitress had set it down for him, having called for her while Remus had been discussing his theories on the house. He gave the young blonde a thankful smile and waited for her to walk away. Bruce set his eyes on Remus and observed as the werewolf stared sadly at the table, looking miserable, desperation seemingly creeping into his jaw line and settling on his features. "Let's stop the mystery, Remus. Who is the wee lad? If what you say is true, I need a bit more explanation on the details of what sets him off. He could either hurt himself or someone else by a mere thought. And, I'm growing anxious to learn as to why ya seem to know so much about him."

Remus took a look around the pub to make sure no one was listening. "It's James' son, Bruce."

Instantly, Bruce sat up erect, he was wide-eyed and bore an alarmed expression. His thoughts wandered to the past… He had been an Auror in the field at the Ministry of Magic for many years, three weeks into his seventh year on his team, and a dead team leader later, a young wizard with untidy black hair and glasses had been assigned to lead the tight-knit group of six men. They had been hostile with the young lad, unpleased that a rookie would be put in charge of veterans. Their animosity had lasted until the night that James Potter had saved their lives by risking his own. He had earned their respect, and his natural talent to lead had never been questioned again. Liam had been let go from the Ministry after a personal attack on his home had changed his life forever. He had left just before James was to become a father, his wife pregnant at the time Liam Lorcan had disappeared from the world. Still, Bruce needed to make sure that the boy they were discussing was the Boy-Who-Lived. "Harry Potter?" he questioned the werewolf, his eyes filling up with the realization on how that changed the situation greatly. 

"Yes, Harry James Potter, whom I am now guardian of." Remus' tone revealed how scared the new responsibility really made him.

Newspaper clippings Bruce had seen and word of mouth had brought news of the Potter family tragedy, including the unexpected shock of seeing someone he had once considered a friend be accused of mass murder (something he had believed as a misjudgment of character on his part until Remus Lupin had revealed Black's innocence). Bruce had been shocked to hear of the werewolf's account of the day, and had made the younger man vow he would do something about the injustice of his friend's wrongful incarceration. "This changes things, Remus. If memory serves me correctly, you saw a scorched wall where we can guess Voldemort fought with James, correct?"

Remus nodded, knowing what the rogue was going to say.

"James saved us once when we miscalculated the number of Death Eaters in a warehouse we were about to raid. We were outnumbered ten to one, and James stalled them so that we could escape. It was like he created a wall of fire that was impossible to extinguish. The building collapsed on top of them all, right after we had gotten out. Remus, he walked out of there without a scratch on him while the fire was starting to consume everything. All the Death Eaters had either Apparated out or perished. We wracked our brains and still couldn't figure out how he had escaped the fire — that is until I did a wee bit of research. One thing I can assure ya on is that he collapsed right after getting out, the fire died out instantly, and James almost died of magical exhaustion — he was unconscious for a week, a pretty redhead by his side the whole time."

"I remember that, that's when James confessed to us that he was an Elementalist. He could control only fire, but the ability scared him. He didn't have to read far to learn how dangerous the power could become and how fearful people were of those with the ability. Lily told us she had found out about his secret on their honeymoon, when James had become angry with a flirting bellboy, and had accidentally set fire to their bed."

Bruce absorbed the new information; he had never told James that he had figured out what he had done to save them. Years ago, he had told Remus about what he had known about James' fire ability when Remus had shared what the scene he had come across at Godric's Hollow had been like. Bruster ordered a goblet of red currant rum with a single gesture; the old bartender levitated the goblet to the table. It landed with a loud 'clunk' as the metal collided with the cured oak. Bruce cradled the cool goblet in his hands, taking a sip of the bitter liquid before looking back at Remus. "I suppose the young lad's magical reserve can manifest itself to the form of raw power because of his advanced ability as an Elementalist. His magical reserve also has to be extremely ample to even attempt to control all that without his body being destroyed. Now, I need to know specific details on the lad's ability. So far, it looks like the poor kid needs to get a handle on it before he becomes dangerous."

Sighing, Remus looked at his hands sadly. "I have learned that the raw reserve power will not administer burns, yet, the power of the green flames creates a shield that can only touched by flamed hands, which Dumbledore has discussed with me is what Harry did with a simple thought. It is my belief that his raw power, found in the green flames, joined with his Elemental fire, fueled the wind caused by a high emotional stimulus, and-"

"BOOM! No more house, vacuum created, and safe Harry," supplied Bruster as he took another drink.

Remus ploughed ahead. "Yes, and that proves he is using them in combination as well."

"Right… So, it has progressed farther than I ever thought possible. How dangerous…" The rogue raised his thick eyebrows expectantly, peering over his goblet as he drank from his red currant rum, waiting for Remus to continue.

"Recently, I witnessed Harry freeze a bookshelf--" 

"-which involves water and air to cool rapidly," the rogue quipped, astonished that such rapid acceleration had not caused Harry's body to fail or his mind to be lost.

Ignoring the shifts in Bruce's expression that flagged the escalation of danger on his charge's life, for which Remus cared little to think about, the younger man finished recounting his tale. "This, I believe, was caused by pure emotional distress because it doesn't appear as if he noticed at all, and I repaired the shelf before he realized it had been damaged by the next day. I'm not sure how much of this Dumbledore knows either, but if he did suspect something, I'm sure he would have told me. Bruce, what do you know about Elementals?"

"Mythically, the four elements were said to have been descended from life forms themselves: the Sylph, Pygmy, Salamander, and Nymph. The mystics were wrong; these theories were based on the creatures that used the elements. Now there is a tale that says descendants of a magical line born with the power to control the four elements were born into the world at the dawning of the age of the Homo sapiens. The documents trace back to the very evolution of humans beings on earth, since I come from an ancient line of wizards; I had access to those documents in me family vault. 'Lorcan' or 'warrior' was designated our name for their long affiliation with Muggles and their legendary protection over the balance of both worlds. Pride led to many stories being passed down for generations, which, as ya know, hold heavy grains of truth. What I'm saying is, that among those people born with the gene for magical mana, were a gifted few with the gift to protect everyone from the cruel and ever changing landscapes.

Bruce took another swig of his goblet before continuing. "They were the guardians of wizard kind, as well as Muggles of that time. The worlds weren't separate then and it was up to the few Elementalists to protect man from extinction. Unfortunately, greed grew, and man used their guardians as weapons against each other. Muggles and wizards alike abused their powers and almost brought about their own ends. It was at this time that a decision was made, born by pure desperation; they deemed the Elementalists dangerous, and when someone was found to harness the power they were murdered.

"Muggles and wizards formed an animosity for each other after normal wizard folks were wrongfully accused of having the power and when Muggles grew more paranoid that all wizards were out to do them in — there was mass murder on both sides. Muggles still greatly outnumbered magical folk, and wizard kind nearly went extinct except for families that had gone into hiding. That's when the Age of Merlin comes in and the Knights of Venificus Latito were formed and separated the worlds, vowing to protect the Muggles from harm while keeping them in the dark about wizarding societies hidden all around them. Merlin even created metals and awards that would be given to magical people that defended the peace of both worlds. However, fear of Elementalists remains, fueled by ignorance. Facts about the gift have been forcefully lost or forgotten by now. No one knows this, but Merlin himself had control over all four Elements. Throughout history, some of our greatest leaders have been found to still harness, if not the whole gift, but small traces of such control over the Elements."

Remus sat in awe about the amount of information he had just been told, he wondered where Harry fell into the picture. "So, it may not be a good idea to publicize the fact that Harry has this power."

"You are right, ol' friend. Those who know of the power see it as evil — nothing to be proud of, and people fear what happens when the Elementalist fails to gain control over his power. Does Harry have all four? If he does, we may be short for time to act. If he truly has four, he may be the first in centuries, if not thousands of years to possess them all, at least to my best knowledge. That alone, and that fact that they have all awoken at the same time, is bloody serious."

The werewolf's body shuddered at the thought, things were worse than he had thought. "Well, I have never been privy to Harry in a fight, but I tracked down those boys that Harry had beaten up at the playground when he was attacked, and oh' boy… Dudley Dursley, Harry's massive cousin, was admitted for internal bleeding right after their release from St. Mungos, which was part of why Petunia Dursley was not charged for Harry's abuse and part of the deal that was made to not charge Vernon Dursley for attempted murder. He also had a couple fractured ribs, and was so mentally scarred from the trauma, that he wouldn't speak for months. It worked wonders to reform his personality."

Remus paused to collect himself. "He also suspended the entire gang in the air for a very long time, something that I have not even seen be done accidentally, especially when his focus was completely off those boys in that space of time. And that's not all, Harry became angry when someone killed his pet, and he attacked the kid who did it. The kid had his nose obliterated; it was just a big bloody mass on his face. He had to be healed by our Healers because the bone was so severely pulverized on his face; the Muggle doctors were at a loss on what to do. Even so, there was only so much the Healers could do with Bone Regrowth Potion. It will never look the same; they had to work hard to make sure it would begin to function again! Harry would practically die of depression if he were told about it, which is why I haven't even sat him down to explain what I suspected about his powers. You should have seen his mental state for the last month; it's only now that he has begun to recuperate."

"Hmmm…" Bruce Lorcan sat in thought, trying to draw a conclusion on what could have come into play to cause so much damage to Harry's victims. "Earth!" he exclaimed when he was struck with a plausible theory. "He was unconsciously using magic and his natural gift as an Elementalist to fortify his strength. I doubt that he can control it right now, but his emotions would definitely get them moving. In rare cases, not only can those with the gift control the Elements around them, they can take the Elements within their bodies."

"What does that mean, Bruce?" Remus questioned, curiosity taking over his fear.

"It means that his power it at a level where, if he gains real control over it, he can easily use Earth to strengthen his body physically, if not even more than that."

"That's the reason why I want you here. I need an extraneous program for Harry, he's starting school in less than a year, and although Dumbledore thinks that I'm just going to teach the kid how to write, it is crucial that Harry learn to control himself. We don't need him losing control in school and being deemed dangerous, that's part of the reason why James, no matter how much of a show-off he was, hardly let anyone in on his secret. Can you tell me about the limitations of this power? James could control who he wanted to hurt or what he wanted to burn. He could never keep it up for long periods of time because he never much exercised using it; it scared him too much that he could lose control."

Bruce called the bartender again and motioned for another dark lager, his cheeks already exhibiting the red splotches that signified impending drunkenness. He took a huge gulp after the drink had been levitated towards their booth. "The most important thing to know, is that powers may stay dormant, even in those that are given the gift. The carriers are usually from the older families because although it's true that the origin of the power remains unknown, it is accepted as being hereditary. Most wizards or witches only use them once as well, passing the incidents off as accidental magic. More often than not, the gift is usually only activated when the person is in a heightened emotional state. If I was very angry or hurt, I might make it snow, however, the chances of it happening again can be extremely rare and unnecessary for my survival. The person may never be awakened to that state of necessity to even use it; he could die a happy man never knowing he was an Elementalist. Sometimes the power will wait for a specific moment, a low point or particular impressive show of strength to be revealed and harnessed."

Bruce gulped down his bottle. "The gift can be very dangerous; yer body must be strong and yer mind sturdy to even try to fully start harnessing it. This is why the lad is in danger. If he were to lose control of himself, he can do harm in many ways; his body might be too weak to work at full drive, and he could die from exhaustion if his Elemental ability went haywire. Yer mind must stay in control at all times. If there is a void, the magic can be completely detached from your moral part of your brain. You could think of killing your best friend and have the Elemental energy do it for you right before your very eyes if you don't remain balanced and in control of yourself. And there lies the danger…"

"What would you say is the difference between producing fire in your hand through wandless magic and producing fire through elemental ability?"

"Ah, that's an excellent question. Intelligence, loyalty, versatility, and power, makes them two distinct branches of magic. We have spells for each element. 'Aguamenti' is used for water, there are spells to create fire, and the other elements too. The closest we _normal_ wizards have come to imitating Elemental ability is Fiendfyre, and that is merely a dark curse that takes the shape of near-uncontrollable fire beasts. Although, control is key because the Fiendfyre spell is powerful, once it gets out of control it's nearly impossible to extinguish, unless the connection is broken with the death of the one who cast it. With Elemental ability, you can practically instill yourself into the magic and still control it while doing a myriad of different spells with relative ease."

Remus chanted "_Manus Ignus_" into his hand (flames erupted) to demonstrate wandless magic with the use of fire.

Bruce smiled. "Those flames," he pointed at the ball sitting on his friend's hand, "require deep concentration. Right now, ya can chose to let it die, throw it, or feed it and make it grow. Ya have to focus on it very hard because wandless magic is difficult on itself. Also, if ya were to touch anyone else with the flames, it will harm them. The fire there, is fire produced straight from your magical reserve--it feeds directly from it, and by doing so, depletes your mana rather quickly. Also, ya can't select what ya want it to destroy."

Bruster had momentarily paused to wave to the bartender, about to holler for a new drink when Remus pulled his arm down with a frown, extinguishing his flamed hand before he was tempted to throw it at the rogue.

"No more spirits for you tonight," Remus warned.

Mock pouting, Bruster continued his explanation, foregoing the rest of his drinking for the night. "Elemental ability is almost second nature when used properly. If not specified by an elemental user, I can extinguish Elemental flames with water, but it would take a lot more to extinguish that type of fire than a normal one because it is taken directly from the environment, and the environment constantly replenishes said flame until the Elementalist quenches it or someone else cuts the magical feed off. Most importantly, a person that possesses an Elemental ability can instill the thing with rational thought, almost giving it an artificial intelligence affected by the caster's natural thought and character. He could light your entire body on fire and tell it not to harm you. I could make a ring of fire around a perimeter and have it let out the good guys without being harmed, while making it burn their evil pursuers down. "

"Distinctly powerful Elementalists, that have managed complete exercisable control, could use their abilities to defend someone for an extended period of time, across large spans of distances, depending on a person's magical reserve and maximum level of output possible. So if that person gets into a wee bit of trouble, the environment and whatever elemental ability the person has, will protect and try to defend that person with an artificial conscience, even while the user is completely involved and focused on another matter and is not concentrating on the Elemental usage."

Remus smirked, pleased with the in depth explanation, but making another connection with what he had learned. "You forgot to mention that Elementals have a balance of powers within themselves. I suppose that's why wizards with more than one control are so feared. The Elements balance each other out through opposites: water quenches fire, fire boils water, earth contains air, and air erodes earth. A puny little spell cannot extinguish an elemental for that very reason. It is simply impossible, unless the person is skilled enough to focus an amazing amount of power in cutting the complimentary connection. And an Elemental wielder only uses a trace amount of their magical reserve to use the environment itself to create their Element, making them formidable opponents, nearly indestructible — hence the fear of them, especially when they are used as pawns and weapons. Any defense I could create by dipping into my mana, and risking death from exhaustion, may only create a less quality replica. The best defense against them is to be an Elementalist yourself, preferably with a more advantageous Element." Remus rubbed his eyes with his palms vigorously, fighting exhaustion and distress with the plethora of information he had just processed. "Merlin, we have work to do!"

"Remy, let's discuss what we're going to do. I have that tutoring job set up as well; I can take a guess and say we can teach the two tykes together for show. While also we can give Harry private lessons on the side, we'll have them set for their upcoming departures to school in no time!"

Taking a good look at his friend, Remus noticed that he was completely drunk off his arse, if his use of 'Remy' hadn't been enough indication. "It's getting late, Bruce."

"Mind if I crash at yer flat, Remus. As comfortable as I find the forest floor, your couch, and me-me-me," Bruster held a confused expression for a while before he seemed to remember where he was going with his statement, "be assumin' ya own one." The older man chuckled, finding the phrasing of his sentence quite funny (Remus was not amused), "is looking quite for-formidable. I don't want to be left out there on me tot."

Remus sighed. "I have an appointment with Dumbledore early tomorrow, one which I hope you will accompany me to. Then we need to discuss how we are going to go about Harry's lessons, and who else will be joining us for regular instruction. I may be letting you stay at my flat for tonight; however, you are to never appear in Harry's presence as pissed as you are now. It is paramount that I keep Harry first." Remus spoke sternly and deliberately, saying his words slowly so that the rogue would understand how serious he was about the ground rules he was placing.

"It's a promise," Bruster sang, swaying drunkenly as he stood, while depositing a large lump of galleons on the table. "Let's Apparate away!!!" He flapped his arms like some large and misshapen bird, closing his eyes.

Remus shook is head and grabbed on to the back of Bruster's robes.

"I might be a bit buckled, Remy," warned the drunken rogue with a toothy grin, the tattoo on his upper left cheek flexing strangely as he did so. 

"Rat-arsed is more like it! I'm going to Apparate us to the flat, will you behave?"

Bruster opened his arms as if awaiting a hug, a huge smile plastered on his face.

Remus gave him a 'you would' look before grabbing onto his shoulder and Disapparating with a loud 'crack'.

**A/N**: _**So? How many of you have question about what Harry can do? Questions welcomed! Again, I want to remind everyone that although Harry will be stronger than he was in the books in this AU, he is in no way undefeatable or above everyone else. Harry will have to learn how to manage and control his abilities slowly and in some aspects it may seem like a disadvantage to him. That said, Voldy is going to be fierce! He will be plenty cruel and seemingly above what Harry can face. Wuhahah!(evil laugh attempt) But we'll have to see. Oh and if you haven't noticed, Sirius was named here! So you will see him fairly soon! Yay! Please review! I want to know how I did at action. If anyone had any pointers feel free to drop me a line**_!


	10. Hidden Truths

**Chapter**: Hidden Truths

**Summary:** Lupin takes in an abused Harry from Privet Drive and the nine-year-old finds his first friends with the Weasleys. He is plunged into a world where he must recover and deal with the evil that Voldemort unleashed. Will love be enough? Canon pairings, added OC's, powerful Harry, age 9 trough seventh year

Summary of Edge of Darkness Series: For his entire life, Harry James Potter has been bombarded with unwavering evils...Will he succumb to the dark? or Will those who love him be the last chance to save the Boy-Who-Lived? Voldemort increases his ambitions and sets his sights on the entire world... How will Harry handle the weight of the world on his shoulders? This is a tale of a boy's struggle against all odds; while facing more danger, handling mysterious powers, and being faced with his romantic feelings for a certain beautiful girl...

**A/N: **Finally! Another chapter. I wish I could say that it was writer's block, mostly because that would mean that I didn't miss countless of hours of sleep, but alas no. These last couple of months I have been pretty productive in writing. I've written bits of other chapter s that will happen in the near future, researched endlessly, and spent a lot of time on getting this together, while balancing university in the process. I mean, I have a hundred and something pages written out of things to come. Thanks to everyone who takes the time out to read and review, I promise it won't take another few months to post the next chapter, please read and review and enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: look at first page.

The moon was slowly ascending into the horizon, the clouds' silver linings glowing as the hues darkened with grays and midnight-blues. The sun was setting, a large orb seemingly made up of a surge of rich colors hiding beneath the fields at the distance. It basked them in an orange glow that seemed to mimic their contentment. Their grins could be seen from afar, and if that wasn't enough proof of the level of enjoyment they had received from their excursion into the lake, then their sing-song voices could be seen as a tell-tale sign. All of them walked contently towards The Burrow, still giddy from their swimming day of fun.

Harry kept thinking back to what a wonderful day it had been. He was still so excited, pure contentment pumping through his veins and making it nearly impossible to stop smiling. His skin burned a bit from exposure to the sun and the others hadn't fared so well either. Mrs. Weasley had come down to bring them their lunches and she had nearly cried when she realized it had slipped her mind before letting them go; she or her husband usually placed Anti-UV Charms on them before they let their children go. Harry was walking alongside Ginny and Ron and he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude towards his youngest friend.

Ginny had held his hand, leading him in the water. Her small hand had been inside his, guiding him on where to step so that he could avoid the large craters at the bottom. Just having someone support him so much filled him with a wonderful feeling. If the Weasley boys had suspected anything Harry wasn't sure. But the boys had stayed an unusual amount time treading near the water's edge. That had lasted until Harry had gotten the hang of it and had plunged into deeper waters.

They had played for hours after that, Percy watching them until the heat had become unbearable, and to avoid severe stroke, he had grudgingly conceded to play in the water. He had been a pain in the beginning, ignoring them completely or mumbling about how they were going to fail in life by avoiding their studies. However, as soon as the twins had splashed him with a tidal wave of water, Percy had thrown a clump of mud at both of them (to their immense surprise) and had begun to laugh heartily for the first time. It was strangely bizarre that it was all it had taken to loosen Percy up, but Harry had a feeling that it wouldn't last too long.

Harry was snapped back from his thoughts by squeal from Ginny, causing the boys' attention to redirect towards The Burrow, where there was a figure outside shaking his fist and yelling at a Garden Gnome. The muscled person was pulling some sort of medallion from the creature's hands, struggling to take back his possession. The man said a string of curses before winning the struggle and swinging the creature out into a field in the distance with only one arm.

Ginny sprinted towards who Harry discovered was her older brother, screaming with glee as she leapt into his arms. "Charlie!"

"Happy to see me, Ginny?" asked a smiling Charlie Weasley, bemused at his little sister's enthusiasm.

Grinning, Ginny jumped down from his arms. "Mum told me you were coming down during breakfast this morning; she thought I'd cheer me up." she admitted as she looked up at her freckled favorite brother.

The boys greeted their brother with a half hug, half-pat on the back. Percy and Harry merely shook his rough and ashen hand. Charlie had taken Ron's advice from Christmas and was wearing a smart long-sleeve shirt that hid his tattoo. To everyone's disappointment, Mrs. Weasley had been so distracted over Harry's presence that she had yet to notice her son's form of 'artistic expression', as Charlie so nicely put it.

Harry was shaken from his observations by a collective gasp from the crowd of redheads next to him. The door was wide open, leaving only an old and battered screen door, which allowed Harry to be able to sneak a peek at what had caused such a reaction–there he spotted Dumbledore and the Weasleys, completely oblivious to their presence. Bits of Dumbledore's sentences drifted through the open door and into their awaiting ears.

_"Has Harry been eating well?"_

_"Oh yes, I make sure of that, just ask my sons."_ Mrs. Weasley responded.

_"Ah, I've heard all about the young Weasleys..." _Dumbledore said in an amused tone, referring to the twins specifically. .

Misunderstanding, Mrs. Weasley laughed and said, _"Well, our Percy he is quite a cat--"_

_"Oh, yes, him as well, but I was referring to the current youngest Weasleys at Hogwarts. Those boys have character indeed."_ Dumbledore chuckled and the twins snorted with mirth, glad that the Headmaster already knew who they were.

Mrs. Weasley sounded mortified when she fumbled over her words, _"F-Fred and George! They haven't…they haven't….caused any trouble that I've yet to hear about have they?"_ Her voice showed her usual disapproving stance towards her sons' playful activities.

Dumbledore chuckled pleasantly again. _"Molly, they aren't in any real trouble, I assure you. I am merely interested in their antics-- clever boys to the core, aren't they?" _

Harry was still confused about what had caused the Weasley children to gasp, so he turned around and observed them, watching for any clues as to what they were thinking.

Percy looked faint, speaking in a whisper, "You are on first name bases with the Albus Dumbledore?!" The curly-haired redhead had grabbed Harry's shoulders and had started to shake him as if to rattle out any hidden secrets he had.

Fred and George grinned, the former motioning for his twin to creep up behind Percy.

Ginny stood, wide-eyed as she stared through the screen door with a dismayed Ron. They looked like they were afraid to breath; the mere thought of ever meeting the headmaster of one of the best schools of witchcraft and wizardry in the world was almost beyond comprehension. Harry looked around, nonplussed and wondering why meeting Dumbledore was such a big deal. He knew, all too well, how powerful Dumbledore was but he hadn't known he was that famous and revered. Truth be told, he had never given it much thought. Dumbledore was Dumbledore, a jolly older figure that packed quite a bulk of power. He seemed almost harmless on the surface--at least towards him.

"He's been here for about twenty minutes, saying he didn't want to disturb your play, Harry." Charlie said as he pulled Ginny from her supposed hiding place and tried to push her through the door while she panicked about meeting her future headmaster.

_**"Crack!" **_They all jumped at the sound of Apparation, or so they thought until they found George with two pieces of wood in his hands. The twins were on the floor, beyond themselves with laughter. Percy was a pale-white, sputtering, and sweating profusely. "It's not polite to imitate someone like the great Dumbledore you know!!!!" Percy yelled indignantly after regaining his bearings.

"We must have skipped that lesson. What do you think, George?"

"Why, brother of mine, I thoroughly agree." George said with a snicker. 

Percy got off his bottom, brushing himself off and muttering about 'delinquents' under his breath.

"Come on, Ginny." Charlie grabbed Ginny and tossed her onto his shoulder.

"Wait, Charlie! I want to hear what Dumbledore's saying."

"No snooping for you, spud. We're going to take a walk and you're going to talk with your favorite brother." Charlie grinned at Ginny's scowl.

"Who said you were my favorite?" she asked, wearing a mischievous expression.

"Ah, I did!" Charlie flipped her from his shoulder, grabbing her around the waist so that they were face to face.

"Fine, Charlie. I wouldn't want to ruin your delusions." She declared with her arms crossed as he held her up.

"Ha, ha…very funny. He let her fall to her ground. "Off we go! No, ifs, ands, or buts from you."

The remaining boys watched as Ginny and Charlie made their way into the paddock, Charlie letting Ginny climb onto his shoulders. When they looked back into the common area, they realized that Dumbledore had moved to the kitchen so that he could take his tea.

"This way!" directed Fred. The boys minus Percy–he had refused to eavesdrop and had settled on the porch, knowing better than to snitch on the twins–all followed them, creeping behind the twins to arrive under an open window. Harry settled on the outer right, Ron beside him, and the twins next to him. They pressed themselves against the side of the Burrow, slowing their breathing so that they wouldn't be heard.

_"Did he tell you where he was going?" _they heard Dumbledore ask Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley hesitated, obviously not comfortable with the question._ "Not a word." _

_"Did Harry tell you anything?"_

_"No…listen Headmaster…We just don't feel that comforta--"_ Mrs. Weasley was interrupted by Dumbledore.

_"It's alright," _they could still hear the pleasant tone in the old wizard's voice. _"Just curious is all!" _

Harry felt proud of his friends' parents. He tuned in again to listen to them speak after hearing his name mentioned.

_"Has Harry done anything peculiar?"_ Dumbledore inquired

_"No, actually he seems great. Nice kid…it seems almost a miracle that he recovered so fast. I swear, I see those lacerations as they were when I came upon him and that flesh encrusted chain and…it's a nightmare. I can't even imagine what that could have been like." _Mr. Weasley's voice had gotten shaky at the end; they could practically picture him cupping his face with his hands at some point

_"I completely understand …" _They heard Dumbledore say in a soothing voice. Harry stared straight ahead, wishing he could send the boys away; wanting to prevent his friends from hearing the conversation without looking like he had spun his very own web of lies.

_"However, I must know, has he hurt anyone or gotten…out of control?"_ Dumbledore inquired carefully.

Harry sucked in his breath, his eyes growing wide. Was he really that dangerous? He stared down at his hands, wondering for the hundredth time what his mysterious power was. He started to sweat, his pulse quickening with fear. He could feel the other boys tossing glances in his direction, watching for his reaction.

All the feelings of anger rose up in Harry at once, filling him up in a tidal wave of fury. He clenched his fist, seething as even more people spoke about him as if he was just a test subject. He knew they cared for him; but there was a line to the amount of information that could be withheld from him–and they all had crossed it far too many times. He tuned in to the conversation again, wanting to hear how Mr. Weasley would respond. Hopefully the response would appease his anger a bit.

Mr. Weasley must have been taken back by the question because he didn't speak for quite some time. _"Why, I couldn't even picture Harry hurting a fly! Albus--"_

_"No need to get riled up, Arthur. I just have well-placed concerns that are best kept secret for now. I just need you to trust me and inform me if Harry does do magic in any form. It is crucial you watch out for anything, just be sure he doesn't learn of this arrangement. We need plenty of ears with friendly faces; all we have to do is stay alert in case Harry…in case of any occurrences of the unwanted kind transpires." _

Harry unclenched his fists, still quite angry, but taking comfort in the fact that he still had an ally. _An ally…Well, maybe not that far, _Harry thought. Dumbledore and Remus needed to learn a lesson, but they were just misguided in their attempts to protect him. They weren't enemies. Harry took a deep breath, exhaling and cooling his anger.

_"Of course, I'll inform you of anything I see…shall it come to light of course…" _Arthur informed the headmaster.

_"Do you believe the children have finished their lovely play day yet?"_ Dumbledore asked.

_"I suppose. It is getting fairly late. Shall we go retrieve them?" _said a recovering Arthur Weasley, trying to formulate a reason as to why Dumbledore would need to know so much about Harry. 

_"Certainly,"_ Dumbledore replied.

Harry got up from his place in the ground, the other boys waiting to follow his lead. He needed a place to cool his anger towards Dumbledore. He wasn't going to show him his anger just yet; he wanted to wait until he was sure that he could handle whatever truths the adults in his life were safeguarding. With that resolution in mind, Harry stomped towards the trees to his right, thinking that getting lost in the forest for just a bit wouldn't be too bad.

"We'll hold them off!" announced George when he realized what Harry's intentions were. His twin stood solidly beside him, crossing his arms and already working on a plan. They were none too happy about the Headmaster's sneaky explorations into Harry's life. And frankly, they didn't understand any of it; they didn't give a rat's arse about Harry's powers. They were interested, but not to the point that they would grill Harry for his secrets. Sure the green flames from Christmas were wicked in a brilliant way, but the Harry they had gotten to know was a friend in their book, and that was all that mattered.

Ron looked back at the twins, nodding at them before charging towards Harry and grabbing his wrist. "C'mon, Harry, this way! I know a place we can go not too far from here!!!!"

Harry looked on, perplexed as he was pulled into the forests. Large canopies were blocking out the light, allowing the trees to make intimidating shadows in the fading beams coming off from the falling sun. Ron held on tightly to his arm and ran as if escaping a flood. He then stopped so abruptly that Harry flew into his back and sent both of them crashing to the ground.

"Merlin, Harry, you didn't have to bludgeon me with your body. I was just trying to help!" Ron said, barely containing his laughter.

"Shut it, you're the one that ran me in here. I barely dodged four trees from knocking me out while you led the way!" Harry complained as he looked around and couldn't find a single reason as to why it had become the one spot Ron would stop at.

"Sorry?" Ron said in a tone that wasn't convincing at all, the corners of his mouth curving upwards. "Anyways, look over here."

Harry turned around and dusted his clothes off, watching Ron as he felt a tree trunk in front of him.

"Here it is!" Ron said happily, locating a rung of a camouflaged wooden ladder. Harry looked up and found a makeshift tree house situated on the oak's strong branches. "A tree house?" Harry gasped, never having found anything so fascinating in such boring place like Privet Drive.

"Let's go up!" Ron said excitedly. They both began to climb and landed on the wooden boards of the dirty tree house floor.

"What is this place?" Harry asked, taking a look around and finding it unbelievably spacious. "This is impossible; it didn't look that big from below." The tree house was one large fun room, ten feet long from all sides, creating a box that looked twice as big on the inside then it should have been. In a corner there was a small cot, next to that was a stack of books and magazines with figures and people on brooms sweeping around the covers. The walls were adorned with posters of moving figures, there was even a few of some women wearing swimming costumes and riding a broom. Harry passed by those quickly, blushing and making his way towards a big chest full of all sorts of things–Harry swore there were several jars of preserved toad's eyes and newts inside.

"Over here, Harry." Ron waved him over, wearing a grin. "Bill and Charlie's old stash of sweets. There are hundreds of Chocolate Frog Cards in here!"

Harry strode over, wearing a wide smile and forgetting all about the reason as to why he had escaped the grasp of the Headmaster. Ron stuffed his mouth with chocolate and picked up a nearby magazine. Harry put something called a Sugar Quill into his mouth, sifting through a bin of coins, some cards with moving pictures that Harry had first learned about at the Burrow, and some other miscellaneous objects and strange instruments.

Ron had dropped the magazine and had stuffed his mouth with some red worms that appeared to be squirming in his mouth. He bit into them, causing juice to squirt all over his face.

They both laughed, Ron's teeth covered in a layer of the neon-purple goo. Ron reached across the bed and turned on the Wizard Wireless, tuning it onto some song about a smelly wizard named Joe. They stayed for about twenty minutes, not caring for anyone to find them. The sun had set and the two young boys sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning up against the old cot and depleting their supply of candy. They found a pair of lanterns and lit them with some matches that Harry had found in the corner, next to some used up candles that he had spotted beside the bed.

Harry finally remembered to ask Ron about their current play site. "Who owns this place anyway? Seems like quite a nice hide out."

Ron chewed a Shocking Berry Nougat, causing his red hair to stand for a brief second. "Well…it was originally built for Bill. He said it was hard to live with six very young siblings and still have a social life."

Harry laughed. "I've yet to see a problem in your living situation, Ron. It's kinda fun to have someone around all the time."

"Ugghh! Are you kidding me?" Ron threw him a disgusted look, crinkling his long, freckled nose.

"What? It really isn't as bad as you make it out to be." Harry frowned and rolled his eyes, not believing that Ron could take all that he had for granted.

"Hmm…let me think…" Ron tapped his chin exaggeratedly. "The twins are usually on their own planet--"

"That's not true; they play with us all the time!" Harry stated, deepening his frown.

Raising an eyebrow, Ron continued with his explanation. "First of all, they've only been playing with us because you're here; second, I usually would be playing with Ginny…" --Ron wrinkled his nose to show his distaste to the idea of playing with his little sister--"; third, Percy is very annoying; and fourth, well… Charlie and Bill are leaving for their jobs; they'll be nothing to do if you weren't here."

"Oh, Ronald Weasley, I'm touched." Harry put his arms to his chest as if he was enamored and fluttered his eyelashes. He then burst into laughter at the glare Ron sent his way for the jest.

"Shut it, Potter!" Ron jumped him and sent both of them rolling around the tree house, delivering punches and kicks that weren't meant to do any serious damage. Harry clipped Ron in the eye (half accidental and dumb luck), while Ron kneed him in the stomach. The roughhousing ended when Ron sat on top of Harry, making it difficult for him to breathe, and the red-head declared himself the victor.

"Yah, yah, yah…I get it, you won." Cough "Cheater!" another cough "Giant cheater!" Harry laughed as Ron stopped bouncing around in his nondescript victory dance and frowned back at him.

"And how exactly did I _supposedly _cheat?!" Ron inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

"Your size was too big of an advantage; I should definitely get a freebie." Harry crossed his arms haughtily, intending to look genuinely unhappy about his treatment as the smaller boy.

"Hey! Maybe I'm not tall; maybe you're just too small?" Ron suggested.

Tapping his chin in mock concentration, Harry shook his head. "No, Ron, I really...I just really don't think that's it. You probably just have some weird sickness that makes you grow incredibly tall way too fast. It might be a serious danger for me." Harry said in a serious tone.

Ron would have been thrown off had it not been the smirk that had crept onto his friend's face. "Why you little…I'll show you dange--"

_**"KA-BLAM! SZHOOM!"**_

Harry and Ron ducked as the blinding light flashed through the forests. It was gone in an instant and an almost eerie silence followed. Both boys stared at each other wide-eyed, looking to see if either one of them had any clue about what had just occurred.

Ron looked at him again, his face a stark white. "Harry…that was the alarm for the wards, somebody who isn't supposed to be here just got through!"

"Come on!" Harry jumped into action, knowing it would not bode well if no one knew where he was at the time that an alarm (that had been placed solely for him) had been set off. He and Ron practically jumped down from the tree house, panic creeping into their chests like feral beasts. They both had taken the lanterns with them to light their path.

Ron took charge, seeing Harry's lost expression. "This way, opposite from the moss on the trees is The Burrow." They both began to sprint towards the house, their clothing getting torn as they brushed against sharp branches and stretched their limbs away from their bodies to avoid the lantern from getting too near.

"There's something wrong. They're never this loud when it's Bill and Dad that put them up." Ron kept running and tossed a panicked glance back at his worried green-eyed friend. "Unless…" Ron broke off.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I'm so daft! I mean we knew Dumbledore was going to get you, it all makes sense!" Ron smacked himself on the forehead.

"What makes sense?"

"Well, the night you were supposed to come to our house the first time, you never showed. Mum said that the preparations hadn't been ready in time. But that night, I thought I heard a strange male voice downstairs. And when I looked out the window, I saw four figures walking out into the forests. It had to have been him! Dumbledore, he probably came to strengthen the wards. He had to strengthen them for you... Harry, are you in danger or something?" Ron stopped and looked at him with wide blue eyes. Harry was taken aback at first.

"Harry, we mostly put wards up to keep the Muggles away, but this ward was made to seal the Burrow off almost completely."

"I don't know, Ron." Harry shifted and rubbed his neck uncomfortably, holding the lantern he had taken with him in his free hand.

Ron returned to running at a steady pace, the panic that had been caused by the alarm wearing off. "It's weird ya know…I mean sometimes I find myself thinking something like 'oh, I need to show Harry this' and then it hits me that you're Harry Potter--_the_ Harry Potter. And it's strange because I never connect the two; it's still hard to believe that you're the same person. You know what I mean?"

Harry didn't know what to say so he stayed silent.

They had somehow lost their sense of direction because they had just suddenly reached the edge of the lake they had just swam at, near a rocky area blanketed in shadows. Suddenly, out of nowhere, they heard a rapid rustling of trees, as if someone was running. The sound seemed to be coming from all directions, bouncing off the darkness and enveloping the two boys. Harry and Ron didn't move, their fear returning at full blast.

Faster and louder, branches being turned and blasted out of the way, a faint sound that seemed to be emanating from some small approaching animal, beating footsteps echoing through the forest floor and attacking their listening ears. It kept coming and coming, faster and more desperate, the branches of the trees around them were beaten or slammed away, and finally…Harry and Ron found themselves completely surrounded. From the direction of The Burrow, stood Dumbledore and the rest of the Weasleys, all with their wands raised. In the opposite direction stood a small gray-eyed boy who had paused with terror in the middle of picking up his small dog–a yapping Pomeranian.

There was a pregnant pause in which everyone just observed the scene, and then the small seven-year-old boy ran up behind Harry and hid behind him. "Harold, what is this?" he asked in a terrified and shaky voice, directing his question towards Harry.

"Huh?" Harry did a double-take when he observed who was behind him. The boy had gray eyes and brown hair that was slicked back from his pale face. His outfit suggested a rich and wealthy income; neat trousers worn with a fancy polo and tucked in. The only thing that deterred him from that image was the fact that his clothes seemed to have been attacked by the forests itself. "Ervin?" Harry asked the small boy who had apparently recognized him.

"Obviously, now what's going on here, Harold? And what are you doing here anyway?" The small boy continued to hide behind Harry as if he was a shield, confusion evident on the features upon his face.

"That is an excellent question, my child." Dumbledore agreed, lowering his wand at last and walking towards them both. Ron had joined the twins in the corner (having found out that standing next to Dumbledore was a bit much for him) and they had been sent away along with Ginny and Percy by their parents, leaving only the Weasley adults with Dumbledore. Dumbledore crouched in front of Harry, keeping his wand behind his back in case the kid was a Muggle, and fixing his eyes on the small boy with a pleasant smile on his face. "Don't be afraid, we just need to know who you are."

Harry observed Dumbledore and scanned his face, watching with interest as he seemed to bore deeply into Ervin's eyes, and tilted his head so that his crooked nose was pointed towards the ground and his eyes peered over his half-moon spectacles.

Ervin gasped, extending a finger in accusation. "You're Albus Dumbledore!" He put his hands on the side of his head dramatically. "What on earth are you doing here? I thought Harold was a Muggle! And why is Harold here anyway?"

Dumbledore let out a sigh of relief to find out the young child wasn't a Muggle and took his wand out again, placing Harry behind him in a discreet manner–Harry was almost surprised to find himself looking at Dumbledore's back.

"I think the question that is most pertinent is who you are and how you got here." Dumbledore said gently.

Ervin picked up his pup, which had been circling his legs, and held him closely to his chest. "Well, the car stopped working right in the middle of the road, and then my pet here escaped so I ran in after it. There was this awful alarm when my father came in though."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened and the twinkling vanished, he looked closely at the pup and frowned, scanning the brush behind Ervin and muttering something under his breath. When Harry looked down at the Headmaster's hand, he saw it held two wands: a long black lacquered wand with a decorated handle, and his own familiar wand.

"Hello? Ervy, what is going on here? Where's my wand?" an upbeat male voice called from the location of the trees, where a person could be heard approaching.

"It isn't me father!" Ervin called, giving the Headmaster a frown that almost looked comical on his small, pale face.

The Weasleys kept silent in the background, watching the exchange with unbidden curiosity.

Dumbledore wasn't smiling anymore and had his eyes fixed in the direction of the intruder. A man shoved away a branch, detangling himself from on last tree that he pushed aside roughly. A lean man approached, with a long torso and a weak facial structure that gave him a ghostly presence. His son seemed to be giving off enough of an air of eminence for both of them combined. In fact, if they would have been standing next to each other, one would have assumed that Ervin's father was a poor servant. He had on an expensive dress shirt with brown trousers, torn and in a state of disarray. He had a long, thin face that held eyes as dark as coals. His features were kind and benevolent, making his eyes look almost alien upon his face, which was almost as pale as his son's. His fair, stringy hair was parted in the middle in a tidy fashion, and a goatee was groomed to perfection upon his chin.

Dumbledore gave him an unreadable look and bore deeply into the man's eyes. "Pardon me sir, but I do believe that your pup is really a rock."

Harry looked back and forth between the two, noticing how intimidating Dumbledore seemed to look by his own wand light, even though his expression was anything but hostile. Harry's lantern had been left on the floor and was illuminating the intruders in a bright glow.

Ervy let the pup fall to the ground, and Harry saw for the first time how strange and unnatural the pup really looked. Its eyes seemed unfocused, and its hair was almost too stiff and pristine. Ervy stuck out his lip and said rather rudely, "Well, I don't think it's up to you to say what my pup really is! Humph!" He crossed his arms and stomped his foot, clearly insulted with the Headmaster's assessment of his pet.

"Ervy!" his father reprimanded, "know who you're speaking to, you did trespass on this property! And I know you know what I told you: the rock is nothing but that. You know exactly why you can't have a pet, and I don't like it much either... But it was very rude of you to trespass on another wizard's property in the middle of the night, not to mention dangerous." Mr. Kippling's face showed true worry as he observed his son, passing his hands over Ervin's face to check for any abrasions.

The boy crossed his arms grumpily again, adopting a stubborn expression. "Father, I'm fine. But I've been telling you, it isn't a rock! It is a Rare Mineral _Stone_ that just happens to be my most favorite in the entire collection!"

The man glanced at his son and smiled back at Dumbledore as if he had just remembered he was standing there, his kind face peering over at the older man as if it was a pleasant tea party affair. "Why of course we knew it was a roc-- _stone_! Didn't we, Ervy? I transfigured it myself!"

Ervy looked back at his father and nodded. "Yes, yes you did. You always do it when Mother is away because she doesn't like it when you do it in front of her and her friends."

"That's quite true, Ervy," noted his father.

Dumbledore broke in, "I apologize, I'd hate to interrupt, but can I receive an explanation on why you have broken through the wards. Oh, and of course, if you don't mind, tell me how you know Harold here." Harry seemed to have been placed on the spot as Dumbledore put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair.

The man had the audacity to grin at a not-very-happy Albus Dumbledore, his kind face lighting up as he put a hand on his small son's shoulder. "I sincerely apologize for my rudeness, oh where have my manners gone! The name is Robert Macbethar Kippling; this here is my son Ervin."

"Pleasure," Harry heard Dumbledore say. A pleasant smile had made a brief appearance but the twinkling in his eyes was far off from returning. I'm sure you already know who I am, but to exchange pleasantries, I go by Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"It's an honor, Mr. Dumbledore." He extended a thin hand that Dumbledore left empty, pretending he hadn't noticed. Robert let his hand drop with only a barely visible frown, his kind and good-natured face still beaming considerably. "Funny situation really, we were just into town and had decided on a ride into the countryside when our car broke down--Muggle devices cannot be too trustworthy I'm afraid." 

Harry heard Arthur release a throaty sound of adamant disagreement which was muffled by a cough made by Mrs. Weasley, meant to mask her husband's interruption. Charlie held in a laugh, his face going red as he tried to hold it in. Ervy didn't seem very happy as his eyes kept darting from everyone in the clearing, resting on Harry most of the time as if somehow it was his entire fault.

Robert sent another pleasant smile at his audience and continued. "Then, as my son explained, just as I was about to produce water and cool down the car, the 'pup' escaped into the forest here and my son goes in after it. Naturally, I followed, setting off the wards. And I think my son can explain why he knows Harold."

Ervy looked at Harry for help.

"I met Ervin at a Muggle toy store on Christmas. He was with his mother then." Harry explained hastily as all eyes turned on him.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore declared, looking pleased with the explanations.

Finally the Weasleys felt it was time for them to show themselves, Mrs. Weasley approaching with her usual motherly concern directed towards Ervy and his destroyed clothing. "Dear, would you and your father liked to come inside with us and get cleaned up?"

Ervy looked her up and down and smiled at her, his father, however, shook his head immediately. "I sincerely regret that we must decline your invitation, we must be getting home."

Mrs. Weasley nodded her head politely and Dumbledore didn't say a word, which Harry suspected was because he wouldn't have allowed them to stay anyway, although he still wore a kind smile that imitated Mr. Kippling's.

"It was a great coincidence to meet you again, Harold. Say hello to your father for me." Ervy came up in front of Harry and shook his hand; his small hand had such a weak grip that Harry almost chuckled, especially because of how distinguished he seemed in the way he carried himself and in the manner in which he spoke.

"Great coincidence it was." Harry agreed. Ervy seemed to be waiting for something so Harry added, "By the way, Remus Lupin isn't my father," in order to break the awkward silence.

Ervy smiled a toothy smile and looked back at his father, who moved his head in the supposed direction of their vehicle.

"It was nice to meet you, mam." Ervy said to Mrs. Weasley, causing her to beam back at him in adoration. The boy gave a polite nod towards everyone else as his father went up to Dumbledore and collected his wand. There seemed to be a silent exchange between the two men as Dumbledore handed over the confiscated wand, the lighted wand tip causing Mr. Kippling's eyes to look even darker. Mr. Kippling turned mechanically and followed his son out of the property, disappearing into the dark, uninviting trees.

When Dumbledore was pleased with the amount of distance between Harry and the intruders, he turned back towards the green-eyed boy and asked in a serious voice, "Are you ready to go? It's a very pleasant evening and I wish to enjoy it in the familiarity of the castle. There are many marvelous constellations out on this night; I have many a plans to take advantage of them." Harry immediately felt uneasy with the imploring look he was receiving from the old wizard.

"Molly, Arthur, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore nodded at each of them in farewell and continued to keep Harry behind him, making it impossible for the young boy to wear off the feeling that he was in major trouble. 

"Well…have a good night, Harry, Albus." Arthur looked at Harry and back at Dumbledore with a mild curiosity before he turned away.

"Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie." Harry heard himself say. His voice felt strange and foreign to his ears because he kept hearing his pulse beat at an unbelievably quick pace; a familiar fear creeping into his system.

Charlie nodded at Dumbledore and gave Harry a reassuring smile that truly revealed why he was Ginny's favorite. Charlie seemed to be able to connect with younger people on their levels without even speaking a word, a gift that he might have gotten from his mum.  
"Be sure to eat again, Harry dear, those sandwiches I brought out this afternoon could hardly be enough."

"I will, Mrs. Weasley, thanks for having me these last couple of days."

"Oh, dear, you're no trouble at all! If you ask me, Ronald, Fred, and George are going to be in big trouble when I get back to them. The twins told us you boys were playing hide-and-seek and prevented us from locating you immediately!"

"Please don't blame them, it's my fault! I went into the forest and I would have gotten lost had Ron not followed me." Harry chanced a glance back at Dumbledore, who was off to the side and waiting for Harry to be ready to go.

"And what made you feel you had to run from us, dear?"

Harry blanched and didn't answer, not wanting her to know they had all been eavesdropping.

At his silence, Mrs. Weasley frowned briefly and patted his shoulder in an affectionate manner. "We're always here for you if you ever need to talk, Harry."

"I know…thanks." Harry watched her go and reluctantly turned to face a patiently awaiting Albus Dumbledore, who handed him a Portkey without a word and held onto it as they were transported to the Headmaster's office. As Harry was considering what to say to Dumbledore about why he had ran away, the very man in question broke through his thoughts in his usual kind voice.

"Do you care for a sherbet lemon, Harry?" The Headmaster held out a tin of the sweets at him.

Harry nicked one near the top, dropping it into his mouth. "Thank you, sir."

"You are quite welcome, Harry. These are certainly delightful, aren't they?"

Harry sucked on his drop, enjoying the sugar. He never did have many sweets growing up. "I like it." Harry decided as he bit into the candy and it shattered in his mouth, effervescent sherbet powder bursting out and mixing with the lemon flavor. When Harry had relaxed enough, he looked over at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore looked calm and collected as he watched Harry from over his half-moon spectacles. "Let's go for a stroll, Harry." Dumbledore stood and was half way to the door when Harry finally caught up with what he had said. 

_I'm not in trouble? How is that possible? Shouldn't he be yelling? Is Dumbledore even capable of yelling? _Harry followed a humming Dumbledore in a daze, too surprised to even be aware of his surroundings. Several scenarios were playing themselves out inside his head: he was being lead to the dungeons to be locked up; he was being abandoned in the Forbidden Forests Hagrid had once told him about to get eaten by beasts; he was being shipped back to the Dursleys and kicked out of the wizarding world. As the ideas popped into his head, they were discarded by a simple benign glance from the old wizard as they glided towards their destination.

For the second time in his life, Harry completely forgot to actually get a good look at the castle. So when he ended up in the Dining Hall, Harry's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. The sight of the constellations above the dining tables shed artificial beams of glowing light towards the majestic scene below; making the room appear like it was floating. Large oak tables were lined in four long, tidy rows atop a spotlessly polished marble floor. At the head of the hall, past the pristine tapestries that lined the stone walls, was a long head table that faced the rest of the hall; a large chair that closely resembled a throne was centered right in the middle. "Amazing!" was all Harry got out as Dumbledore grinned back at him.

"Splendid isn't it?" Dumbledore walked forward towards the head table and motioned for Harry to sit next to him. 

Harry did as he was told and felt strange as he sat in such a large chair that overlooked the entire hall; it gave him a certain feel of power.

"Tuck in, Harry." Dumbledore waved his hand over the top of the table and many food laden dishes magically appeared.

Harry looked down at the top of the oak table and saw steaming pork pies, overstuffed Cornish pasties, finely cooked roast lamb, mash, and baked beans. The aroma wafted through his nostrils and sent his taste buds into overdrive, causing his mouth to water immediately with anticipation.

The Headmaster was already done loading his plate before Harry even realized he had been invited to do the same. Harry mimicked the Headmaster, loading his plate with a generous helping of everything. Dumbledore swung his very long beard over his shoulder and waited for Harry before he indulged in the excellent supper.

After taking a bite, Harry exclaimed, "This is delicious!" He shoveled more food into his mouth, suddenly feeling very hungry.

"I'm glad you find it as delightful as I do." Dumbledore beamed and returned to eating, his eyes twinkling.

They finished their meals in relative silence, the only light coming from the sparkling ceiling above. After they were both satisfied with their portions, they leaned back in their seats, watching the plates disappear into thin air.

Harry was about to ask about Hagrid when Dumbledore broke through the comfortable silence first.

"The staff of this castle sits at this very same oak table for every meal, watching over the students that usually file into this dinning hall. Their plates are filled and their bellies fed. I must say, however, that the most interesting part of the meal is to simply watch feuds be sprung, friendships developed, and lifetime bonds sparked. We watch endless droves of children enter the school through those iron gates outside and it becomes our sole responsibility to care for their safety. Sometimes they peer over at this table and think that we are unseeing, but we see everything, take count of their presence, and prepare perfectly constructed systems built to ensure that every person feels as safe as possible within these warded walls of the castle. Our system relies on the simple fact that our charges trust us and believe in the plans we have created that may ensure their ongoing survival. I don't intend to assume the post of one who will make the most appealing choice for all involved, but in the long run, I need the students' trust as much as they need my protection. Do you understand why I need the students' trust, Harry?"

Harry gulped, knowing exactly what Dumbledore was referring to. He suddenly felt incredibly guilty for the worry he must have caused the adults when the wards at The Burrow had been penetrated. He still thought that he had a right to know why Dumbledore wanted to keep so much from him, but disappearing had been completely irrational on his part. "I understand completely, sir." Harry answered, his eyes looking into the old wizard's light-blues.

"I knew you would, Harry. Now follow me, there is the most perfect location in the castle in which to view the constellations and I wish to show them to you." Dumbledore stood from his chair, his eccentric royal blue robe adorned with yellow stars straightening out on his long torso. Harry stared off at the magical ceiling of the Great Hall as he followed Dumbledore, who was walking at quite an energetic pace and humming the same tune from before. Harry was left wondering how it would feel to return in a year and finally be a normal student as he followed the silvery-haired wizard, that he had yet to figure out fully.

It was a bright afternoon and Harry had woken up from his usual cot in the corner of Dumbledore's office, finding it odd that he had no idea where Dumbledore slept or where he was every morning before he appeared out of the blue from out of nowhere. And like usual, Harry had hoped that today would be his day to explore the castle properly. However, like every other time, Dumbledore had miraculously stopped him from the task without Harry realizing until later. And his current thoughts indicated that he was currently experiencing his 'later'.

Harry had been led to a huge lake surrounded by towering cliffs that displayed a breath-taking landscape. Yet, he had yet to see why the old eccentric wizard had led him there, while engaging him in conversation on the way. And still Harry hadn't gotten a good view of the castle and the grounds.

"This here is called the Black Lake." Dumbledore told Harry as they stood right on the edge.

"What are we doing here?" Harry asked, staring into the dark depths of the water and the tiny ripples that broke through the surface.

"You will find that there lies more than plant life in the depths of this body of water, Harry."  
Suddenly, off a boulder that rested just on the shore, Dumbledore jumped into the Black Lake, robe and all, calling out to Harry. "Aren't you curious about it, my dear boy?"

Harry stood near the water's edge trying whether to discern if the Headmaster had gone crazy. "Curious of what exactly?"

Dumbledore beamed at him, his long silvery hair floating beside him. "I assure you, I'm not entirely an old coot. Approach a bit more and we might just see a most wondrous creature emerge. Don't be alarmed, its presence is far worse than its temperament."

"Err...closer?" Harry stared cautiously at the water, waiting for some kind of monster to emerge and swallow up the unprotected Headmaster before attacking him from his spot on the edge.

"I assure you, I can guarantee your safety." Dumbledore smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling. The old wizard reclined in the water, making a few deliberate back strokes with surprising agility. "Do you trust me?" he asked with his eyebrows raised, his eyes still twinkling.

Harry watched the water with apprehension, gulped, and climbed onto the same rock Dumbledore had jumped off, his trainers filling with water as he steadied himself on the top of the large rock.

"Watch closely, Harry." Dumbledore watched the young boy as the creature began to emerge.

Something poked through the surface, followed by what seemed like dozen other disruptions to the top of the lake, creating tiny ripples that grew wider and wider. Harry looked on as the breaks started to increase and a huge dark shadow approached the surface in a languid pulling motion. Getting to his knees, Harry reached a hand out to touch the surface of the water, just as the shadow continued to grow larger and take on a more defined shape.

The animal stopped its approach when a stern voice nearly made Harry lose his balance.

"Headmaster! What are you doing? With a child, no, _Harry Potter_ in a very large lake in the middle of the summer afternoon."

Harry jumped off from the rock and practically ran to where he had first stood as if he had just been reprimanded. As he looked up at the pursed lips and piercing eyes of one Minerva McGonagall, he realized that he had done absolutely nothing wrong.

Dumbledore positively grinned. "Ah, Minerva, what are you doing here during your supposed holiday?" The Headmaster got out of the water, drying his clothes without even glancing down, and waving his wand at Harry's soaked trainers.

Harry's trainers steamed and warmed up so quickly that he almost kicked them right off. He would have made a scene had he not seen Dumbledore's robes do the same as soon as he had looked up.

McGonagall pursed he lips even more, intensifying her stern expression with a further raise of her eyebrows over her beady eyes. "I saw fit to return for some tomes I had forgotten in my haste."

"Splendid! And you decided to investigate the mysterious person wading through the lake, when we know very well that only six faculty members hold residential status here on the grounds during Holidays- - and that none of them seem the type at all to have a jolly old time with the terrestrial giant creature we have seemed fit to deem, oh so creatively, 'The Giant Squid'? "

"Yes, I suppose that evaluation is quite correct, Albus. Perhaps Mr. Potter can go inside and observe the exceptional armors in the entrance hall?" She pulled her wand out and waved it around without uttering a single word--which Harry found odd--and a paper plane materialized and hovered four feet above the ground as if waiting for something. "Mr. Potter, I trust you to follow this straight to where it leads." 

"Excellent idea, my dear colleague." Dumbledore agreed, turning towards Harry, who had caught on and had already given a small bow to the Head of House before making it to the large doors that Dumbledore had swung open with his wand when they had exited.

"Was there anything else you wished to discuss, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked kindly, his eyes twinkling with his familiar spirit.

McGonagall arched an eyebrow at him, her lips tightly pruned. "Albus, I see fit to caution you over favoritism. Mr. Potter's social and school life will be difficult enough with his fame, let alone throwing in something else for the student population to badger him for."

"I apologize, Minerva. I don't intend to show any favoritism at all. I understand the pressures involved with adolescents. I was simply supervising him for a period of time whilst the Weasleys had a prior appointment that they saw wise to exclude Harry from."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Exclude him?"

"A close neighbor, and a dear friend of the Weasley family, has lost their life in a most unfortunate potion accident. The young woman had her child in the room when it happened, and the child was a friend of the Weasley's youngest."

"That is most terrible news." McGonagall said, her set features wavering for a second. "Is it the Lovegoods, Albus?" she asked carefully and in a measured tone.

"I am most sorry to say that it was. Terrible tragedy, I'm afraid." Dumbledore bowed his head briefly to express that his condolences went out to the family.

Minerva McGonagall sternly observed the Headmaster, her eyes lowering off to the ground as she entertained a sad thought. "It is true; I doubt greatly that seeing another child lose a parent would be wise for young Harry Potter." She shuddered and a sad expression overcame her usually stern demeanor. "There are things, I myself, wish to never have seen." She turned and walked away, a somber expression that almost looked uncharacteristic had befallen her face.

_**I n the meantime…just outside Hogwarts' grounds.**_

Bruce downed a large flask of something from the inside pocket of his worn vest.

"What is that?"

Bruster looked away uncomfortably.

Fixing him with a hard look, Remus repeated himself more forcefully. "Bruce, what is that?"

Bruce tossed him the bottle, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Remus sniffed the contents. "Cheering potion?"

"None of you concern, wolf. Leave it the feck alone, will ya?!"

Exhaling out of resignation, the younger man treaded on. "Certainly, rogue," Remus mumbled under his breath.

The rogue responded with a very rude hand gesture.

"How mature…" Remus scoffed, before side-stepping to avoid a curse Bruce had sent towards him from behind his back. "Hope you don't run out of those then… it might be the only thing making you decent company."

"Shove off, Remus. Change of pace is all."

Remus stopped, concern written on his face. "Bruce, if bringing you near Harry is a mistake, I need to know. Are you ready for it?"

Bruce turned around, leaning against a tree. He looked at Remus with a bit of doubt on his face. "It's taking a bit longer this time, Remus" Bruce admitted, deciding to be honest.

"Damn it, Bruce!" Remus said in an exasperated voice, running a hand through his hair. "We've done tutoring jobs before!"

"True…I don't know… this time took more out of me. Took me months to just get back to where I am now."

"Why is it harder this time?" questioned Remus, hoping it wasn't for the reason he thought.

"Ah, that's easy, Remus. Doesn't mean you'll get to know though, pity really. But then, in me ol' teaching days, I was quite addicted back then to Cheering and Calming draughts as well. I just did better to hide it from ya or at least to be a wee bit more discreet! My doses have had to increase recently, which makes this so much more difficult."

The werewolf sighed, looking at Bruce in the eye. "Do you think you can be…civil?"

Bruster laughed at the absurdity of the question had it been asked to any other 'normal' person, however, in his case it was quite necessary. "I'll manage, Remus. I give ya my word that I can stay in control.

Dumb ledore turned towards the gates, sensing two visitors approaching. He made his way to unlock them, pulling out the proper keys from the inside of his robes.

Just as Dumbledore was about to turn the key that would unlock the gates, Harry came running out of the front doors, his face flushed red, and a suit of armor running after him. He sprinted as fast as he could, making a zigzag pattern in the grass.

Chuckling at the young boy, Dumbledore shook his head and mumbled something about 'youth' while he unlocked the gates to let two men in.

"Uncle Moony, Help!!!!" Harry called in the distance, running at amazing speeds.

"Remus," Dumbledore greeted before he turned to the taller gruff-looking man and smiled warmly, "and who, may I ask, you are my dear fellow?"

Remembering his manners, Remus cleared his throat. "This is an acquaintance of mine, Bruce Lorcan. He helped me out of a few rough patches years ago. We've been sort of business partners over the last few years when work is scarce."

"Ah, I see." Dumbledore extended his hand and Bruster shook it. "Pleasure."

"Oh, pleasures all mine. It's not everyday someone meets a great wizard like yourself." Bruster complimented.

"Flattery will get you no where, Mr. Lorcan." Dumbledore grinned and added, "Except for in my good graces."

"If you gentlemen excuse me, I have a bit of rescuing to do." Remus walked briskly over to Harry, his wand clutched and ready in his hand.

"Is that Harry Potter?" Bruce asked Dumbledore.

Eyes scanning Bruce's face, Dumbledore hid his surprise; instead he inconspicuously pushed at Bruce's enforced mental barriers.

Bruce's eyes darkened, but he kept a smile of a certain level of smugness as Dumbledore pretended that he hadn't just failed in his intrusion. "Well, Mr. Lorcan, I believe our security has been breached if you know about Harry. So I'm assuming Remus told you everything without my authorization."

Playing with his wand, Bruce twirled the instrument between his fingers and continued to smile back at Dumbledore. "You have hit the mark."

"Excellent." Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling as they continued to watch Remus banish the Chameleon Ghoul from the suit of armor. Creatures like that sometimes were able to breech the wards over the holidays because the magic wasn't reinforced so regularly for petty entities. "You have many willing to keep your secrets Mr. Lorcan; even I could not get to them."

Violet eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, as Bruce let out a throaty chuckle, before he said pleasantly, "I value me friends, Mr. Dumbledore…and I like me secrets well-hidden, as ya yourself have discovered."

"You will find, Mr. Lorcan, that I not only guard…secrets, I have a few of my very own that I think rival yours in quality."

"That is most unfair, Mr. Dumbledore," scoffed Bruce with a smile. "Ya do have about a century on me, and please note that my age will make no difference in finding out my true identity."

"I knew that already." Dumbledore admitted with a benign smile. "According to all Muggle and wizarding records, you don't exist, except for the part that your last name appears to be well-known and revered in most texts." The older wizard seemed to collect his thoughts and consider Bruce for a second for his test. "I have also found some school records that spiked my interest in your name."

"I'm flattered, Mr. Dumbledore." Bruce said as his body stiffened and his eyes darkened even more.

Pleased with Bruce's response, the Headmaster continued. "Well…you must know that by all rights you do not exist in any world. In fact, when I came upon your last name, I found that the last person to carry the 'Lorcan' surname could have been your great-grandfather by what I've seen today. It is as if someone erased your identity and those of your relatives and made you…shall we say…_Invisible._" Dumbledore smiled as Bruster frowned at hearing the last word.

Bruce sighed. "I admit, good sir, ya have quite excellent methods at yer disposal. And since I value my friends, I assume we were spied on?" Bruce wasn't hostile, his question was said so matter-of-factly and well-oiled that it rivaled the headmaster's own smoothness.

Dumbledore patted the younger man on the shoulder to show that it was all in the best of interest of Harry. "Even you should understand what's at stake here. But my source was only able to hear up to the point where you placed the ward on the booth."

"So ya didn't indulge in our conversation?"

"Goodness, no! I would do no such thing, as I am not a spy! My situation just requires careful research before I decide to place my trust on anyone. I know your last name Mr. Lorcan, and I have taken a liking to you. Just know that I have available methods ready in case you cross my trust. You will also find, most unpleasantly I'm afraid, that my influence can reach quite far." Dumbledore was still smiling as he watched Remus levitate the empty suit of armor back into the Great Hall while Harry watched with curiosity.

"Most impressive ya are, Mr. Dumbledore. I do hope that we can continue with this most pleasant relation." Bruce grinned as he realized that Dumbledore had never intended to succeed in his metal attack, it has simply been a preview of power. Perhaps a warning of sorts, aimed to show just what type of flame Bruce would be playing with would he get out of line.

"That is all we can hope for, Mr. Lorcan." Dumbledore nodded at the younger man just as Remus approached with Harry at his side. 

Harry had been told to wait outside Dumbledore's office while Remus, Dumbledore, and the stranger talked. He felt exceptionally grumpy with his current situation. Considering that he had just had the daylights scared out of him by a supposedly harmless Chameleon ghoul, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that he was not up for the continued secrets that a stranger was now being allowed to hear. Noting from the amount of protections placed on the door to keep him from listening, Harry assumed it was important, as he sat on the top step of the twirling staircase. 

"Bruster? What kind of name is that anyway?" he mumbled to the walls as he dragged his finger across the stone in circular motion and spoke to himself. He had been briefly introduced to the tall man by Dumbledore, and he hadn't missed the surprise on Remus' face for the way Dumbledore had taken charge. It was almost as if Dumbledore was making a point out of introducing Remus' friend, and Harry didn't think it was a very friendly way of doing so either. 

Bruce Lorcan had stiffened as he had observed him and had stared deeply into his eyes, as if he pictured someone else staring back at him. The man had frowned deeply as he looked up towards Harry's scar unseeingly. _Wasn't it the most obvious scar in the world?_ And Remus had also briefly ruffled his hair before heading out to meet the other two, so his hair hadn't been covering the blemish that was for sure. _But why did he not see it at first before he seemed to gaze right through it with his mysterious violet irises of his? _Harry was so confused over those little actions that it just worsened his mood; only a miracle could lift his current spirits.

If it had been a good day, Harry would have almost liked Bruce. Bruster was tall, muscled, and spoke in an Irish accent that carried the air of a well-educated man. He did seem like a wild spirit that was not too different from Bill Weasley; only wilder in the way his violet eyes seemed to convey all of his emotions. Bruce seemed powerful in an obvious kind of way. The clothing Bruce had thrown on seemed so worn that Harry suspected he lived in the forest, and his well-toned body seemed to suggest the fact as well. Harry had to admit that the man was older than Remus only by the way his face seemed wiser and all-knowing, but he didn't see any obvious age lines. His hair rivaled Harry's own in its wildness but the shade was off and seemed less straight than his own.

What bothered Harry the most wasn't the way that Bruce had looked at him as if he saw another person standing there, it was the fact that Bruce's name was all he had been offered. He had no idea where Bruce had come from, why he was there, or who he really was. Yet, the man seemed to know a lot about him and had even addressed him like they were already friends. _"And how are ya, Harry? I believe I have just been given clearance to see you." _Dumbledore and Remus had frowned at the statement.

It was strange that Bruce had seemed to know what he had just been thinking, even while his violet eyes had been busy looking upwards as he poured a flask of something down his throat. Harry had been saved from answering when Remus coughed and Dumbledore suggested they talk in his office. To add to that, Bruce was the only one to say anything besides 'just wait outside'. The tall rough-looking man had given him a friendly smile that had been almost contagious before apologizing for leaving him out and promising he would be his confidant and try to convince his guardian to tell him what they would speak of.

Slumping where he was, Harry realized he was being a complete idiot in regards to the newcomer. In fact, Bruce seemed like the kindest person he had ever met, surprisingly astute with what Harry was feeling. He blew out a breath and resolved that he was being rather unfair in misplacing his frustrations on a stranger. He had to do better than that he decided as the adults exited the office and beamed back at him. 

Remus watched as Bruce closed the door to the office and said something he couldn't hear to the young boy. Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled as he observed the rogue and waited for the two men to be seated in front of him. His hand glided over the instruments on his desks and set them to one side. He grabbed the two parchments that held very important news.

"What is this about, Albus?" inquired Remus with his eyebrows raised as he observed the two parchments.

"I have found Potter Manor." Dumbledore announced bluntly. He waited patiently for it to sink in.

"Where is it?" It was Bruce who spoke for Remus, who was still in a mild state of blatant shock.

"The house and its wards have currently disguised itself as the mansion house of Carnell in Scotland. In the midst of failing wards, it has convinced a poor Muggle fellow that he owns it. However, the poor fellow currently believes that he is receiving Euros for the supposed rentals and is the victim of a Confundus Hex administered by the houses' ancient wards. Only the wards have administered the hex simply to mask the fact that it can no longer disappear from the map without a proper master. The poor Muggle hasn't received any proper currency in about a decade and he is convinced he has an incurable gambling problem. That said…the wards are still strong enough to be nearly impossible to be breeched by a wizard that may pose a threat."

"So, you think Carnell is really Potter Manor?" Remus said, excitement making its way into his chest. He would now be able to offer Harry a proper home where he would be protected.

"Oh, yes, I am positive of it." Dumbledore stated confidently.

Bruce frowned and decided to address what the Headmaster seemed to be making circles around. "If I know a thing or two about wards and ancient homes, it is that it is going to be very tricky to get near that place. Our best chance is to use Harry directly."

"Oh, yes, you are quite right. And there lies the complicated part. The house may have defenses that can be hazardous and the magic is getting so worn and erratic that it may confuse Harry for an intruder and do him harm." Dumbledore sighed and glanced back at Remus.

"Is this the only possible place that can be safe enough for him?" Remus asked with his spirits sunken as he wondered why everything had to be so complicated in his life.

"Harry needs the manor's protections. The basic protections were originally built-in the 16th century to protect its line. For centuries, the distinguished Potters have all added a bit of their own magic; essentially creating one of the most complex, impenetrable, and strongest wards of its time. Once Harry is in, the wards can be his best chance for survival."

"Why did James and Lily go to Godric's Hollow then?" Remus inquired with doubt etched in the lines on his face.

"Because a home that large is harder to protect and the location was too well known at the time to place a Fidelus on it. Voldemort could easily breech any home at the height of his powers and their best bet was a Fidelus Charm, which is much more efficient with a smaller living quarters. To add to that… it's difficult to keep a close eye on yer family if yer home is too large and spacious," supplied Bruce.

"Enough said…" Remus nodded his head and combed a hand through his gray-speckled hair. "Let's say we go through with this, what type of harm can come of it?"

"The house's wards will automatically close and get hostile if they sense magic being done in a certain parameter. On the positive side for us, it has only a brief scope at a time; a few miles around a space at a time before it shifts. Even a simple 'Lumos' can reactivate the masking charm and make the house impenetrable and impossible to see by our eyes. We could walk right through the house without feeling as if we had step foot in anything but grass or forest. Also, once we get near enough without being sensed, we need enough power to perform the necessary Claim spells. We must convince the wards that we are its master and that Harry is the rightful heir, which would be difficult because Harry is not of age and because the house's magical foundations might me so old and in need of renewal that it confuses Harry for an imposter and does him…harm." Dumbledore spoke carefully, wanting the two men to understand the peril Harry could be put in.

"And the trigger, what is it for the Potter line?" Bruce asked smartly, glancing at Remus because they already knew the answer.

Dumbledore peer

ed over at Bruce with new found doubt. "I haven't the slightest idea. It could be a certain type of mana it will look for in Harry, or it could simply test him for his endurance."

Bruce and Remus frowned at the same time, not exactly sure if to believe that Dumbledore knew nothing of the Elemental magic. "This has very risky scenarios that could be leading the lad into grave danger." Bruce voiced gently.

"I concur, but in a few days time, I think I will have the wards well-researched enough to approach the manor and reclaim it for our own use." Dumbledore stated with his kind face set in a serious expression, knowing that it was up to him to assure the safety of the entire group.

"Okay…What of the other news?" Remus almost regretted to ask, his knuckles going white from clutching the bottom of his chair.

The Headmaster took out the parchment and prepared his own mind for the bad news.

He read aloud:

****

Appeal Notice: Legal Document

Subject to receive document: Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot…(He skipped the rest.)****

"Sirius Black, convicted criminal for the death of thirteen Muggles on a crowded street and for the heinous murder of one Peter Pettigrew will be granted his Appeal on the 31st of October.

This grant is solely being accepted for the blatant disregard of the individual's legal rights in accordance to the Imprisonment without Trial Clause. The request, made by Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is hereby kept strictly silent from outside parties until the decision of the entire Wizengamot has reached an overwhelming majority in support of the Appeal being upheld.

New evidence must be submitted to the court by the given date, and no liabilities lie in the prisoner's untimely death before trial. No inquiries will be made, and all parties will be assumed innocent if such were to occur, due to the hazardous environment and questionable state of mind of one Sirius Black under the Decree number one-hundred and eighty-six of Azkaban Law, created and put into practice on August the second of this very year.

One, Sirius Black, shall be held responsible for all of his actions from this point forth, and any behaviors may be reported and be used in the court of law. Note: The prisoner must be under a reasonably fit state of mind under the same decree mentioned above. Mental state must be proven and all memories from convicted crime are subject to scrutiny in clarity. No time period will deter the governing party from such element of the Appeal."

"This is the best our government can do for an innocent man, Albus?!" Remus stood up from his chair and paced the office angrily, not wanting to believe that he had just made matters worst for his best friend. "Oh, Merlin, this is exactly what I didn't want!" He looked back at Dumbledore with saddened gray eyes filled with a fierce fury. "Who was behind that blasted decree? The hell the government won't be held liable if S-Sirius _happens_ to die before the trial date, what kind of bloody shit is that?!" he spat, beyond himself with guilt and fear for his friend.

Dumbledore sat with his hands folded in front of him and his head bowed, waiting for the younger man to cool his temper.

"It's that miscreant Lucius isn't?" Bruce asked darkly, shadows creeping onto his face almost instantly.

Dumbledore considered the two men before answering. "Yes, and a few of his closest friends" he said simply.

Resisting the urge to throw one of Dumbledore's instruments, Remus looked over at Bruce… his only hope.

Bruce stood up and put a comforting hand on Remus' shoulder. "I won't let this injustice carry out. Listen, I can get my people to fix this. It's risky, but Sirius is an old friend of mine too, and it was why our order was created."

Dumbledore smiled, and lifted himself off his chair, striding over to the door with the intention of bidding Harry farewell. "Gentlemen, according to me, this conversation ended two minutes ago."

Remus nodded his head at Bruce, glad that Dumbledore wouldn't interfere if they were to break the law and break Sirius out.

Give me a month's time and a meeting with the ol' dog, and we'll have Sirius out in no time," the rogue assured him.

Remus stared off at the headmaster's back. "I'll see what I can do, Bruce. I am fairly certain I can make the lion pounce harder."

Bruce gave him a wide smile. "I much rather prefer it to crush upon impact, but we can't all have what we want. Now, let's get Harry back to the flat and discuss these new revelations, as well as something I need you to do."

Remus looked at the rogue suspiciously, knowing better than anyone that Bruce usually didn't have ideas that were in the best interest of all involved.

"So, Harry, how was your stay at The Burrow?" Remus asked as they stepped out of the Floo Network. Harry didn't look at him and started to pick out his nightclothes so that he could bathe.

"Fine," Harry muttered under his breath, clearly unhappy and worried out of his mind about his powers and the secrets the adults in his life were keeping from him. Even his friends were steered away from certain subjects. A few day ago at The Burrow, there had been a tense moment in which Ron had mentioned something about brooms and a pitch and everyone had frozen and had stared at him, as if he hadn't been supposed to know about whatever they had been talking about.

Bruce tilted his head in the direction of the green-eyed boy and looked over at Remus, who happened to be completely lost. 'Talk to him' he mouthed when Remus looked at him blankly.

The werewolf looked helplessly at Harry, who still had his back turned to them. He shrugged at Bruce to indicate he had no idea what to do, and Bruce frowned and nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. Remus hesitated before saying, "Why don't you go ahead and claim the bath, Harry. You can wash up before we indulge in…" Remus looked around the pantry, and Bruce directed him towards the refrigerator where there were still leftovers from the night before. "In this lovely roast--" He turned to Bruce. "What is this?"

"Beef?" Bruce supplied with his eyebrows furrowed. He turned back to Harry and grinned.

"Roast Beef?" Remus' mouth went into an 'O' as he observed the mushy mess that was to be their dinner.

Harry smiled at their antics and suggested, "We can tuck in for a breakfast supper."

Bruster grinned and his face light up. "That's an excellent idea!" he exclaimed and patted Remus on the back. "Just what Remus here needed, didn't ya? He was telling me about his tragic separation anxiety, and it had me a wee bit concerned. He even called me 'Harry' a few times before he caught himself. Almost broke me poor ol' heart!" Bruce exclaimed dramatically, swinging his arms in the air.

Clasping a hand over Bruce's mouth, Remus looked back at Harry and twirled his finger beside his head to indicate that Bruster was crazy. Harry laughed and backed into the bathroom with a bundle of his clothes in his arms while Bruce made of show of having his feelings hurt. 

Bruce grabbed at Remus' legs and threw on the ground just as Harry struggled to close door while using it as a balance to keep himself from rolling around the floor with mirth.

Evin as Bruce helped Remus up, they could still hear Harry's chuckles through the door. "See, you don't need much to make a lad happy. When he's feeling down, he might just need an assurance that yer still there for him and that ya care."

Remus stared at the door in awe, fascinated that Bruce had been able to give Harry's mood a complete turn around.

"Even that joke about you missing him; he laughed, but inside he was hanging on to every word as if it was a hidden treasure. A word of caution, they hate it went you get sappy, so keep it light and make him comfortable." Bruce smiled back at Remus and then turned his attention to the stove. He pulled his wand out and waved it towards the pantry, stove, and refrigerator, ending with a few good flicks towards a drawer full of utensils. "That should do dinner just fine." Bruce said heartily.

Observing Bruce's handy work, Remus was brought back from thinking about his new advice. His thoughts drifted towards sadder avenues. "Sirius…" he whispered. For years, he had been unable to think about his friend, and now the same government that had ignored his letters and pleas for his friend's freedom, had now practically sentenced him to die. The fact that Sirius was in Azkaban for those many years terrified him. Remus had heard about what happened to those that were sentenced there. Insanity spread through those cells like a virus, along with starvation, physical deprivation, and constant daily torture through the prison's wardens.

Asking Sirius to be of the right state of mind to be fit enough to look competent for a trial was unthinkably cruel. Not too long ago, the werewolf within had taken him prisoner and had killed off his hope, and by a rare miracle, Harry Potter had entered his life at just the right time. The Remus Lupin that had once died in that house a Godric's Hollow was revived by a boy with Lily's beautiful eyes. Now that the pieces of his past were being rounded up together, the sharp edges of his life no longer bothered him as much. That assessment came with some exceptions: Harry's abusive childhood, and the fact that he hadn't vouched for Sirius when he should have had. It was the guilt that brought his hopelessness and darkest fears back, the guilt that almost crippled him on a daily basis.

"Remus, are you aw'right?" Bruce asked with concern.

"I'm fine…" Remus sighed as he glanced over at his friend.

"Good. Now, listen carefully, I need ya to push on Harry and take him to the edge. In order to bring out his Elemental powers he needs to be emotionally challenged as that seems to be the only way to bring forth his defenses."

Remus gaped at Bruster in disbelief. "You want me to pull away the only stability out from under a child who has been emotionally abused since the age of two! Do you have any idea the type of damage that could cause him?"

"What I ask of ya is going to be very hard, but yer not aiming to hurt him. Now I'm not saying that this won't create friction in your relationship, but ya must keep him frustrated to the point that his anger unleashes what he can do."

"I won't do it, Bruce!" The younger man put his hands up and shook his head adamantly.

Bruce set him with a fierce stare, his eyes darkening. "Do you want him to die, Remus?! If you care about this boy, you suck up whatever personal issues ya have and ya do as I say!"

Remus fisted his hands, not wanting to admit that this was the only way. "He's a child; I couldn't possibly act that way towards him!"

"Way to step up to the plate, Remus. You know what, when you're attending his funeral you can at least properly blame yourself for something." Bruster pointed at him furiously, angry that Remus would even think of refusing his help and giving up on his own charge.

Remus lifted his head, instantly furious; his eyes gleamed with near rage. "What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!"

Bruce shot him another menacing look. "What I'm trying to say is that ya don't take action towards anything, ya don't help yourself, and yer cowardice to do so affects all those around ya…For once in yer life take the prerogative and suck it up and do what you have to do! Do ya care about him? Right now, yer are all that lad has got, and ya would do well to not let him down!"

"Making him hate me just to get a rise out of him is not what I believe to be the wisest choice! It will break him more than it will help. Goodness, he would start to rethink our entire relationship, or worse, blame himself!"

Bruce ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Listen, Remus, whether ya like it or not, a tough hand is what he needs, so ya do what ya have to do to save him. This is yer time to act. Stop being selfish and wallowing in nothing, and put yourself on the line so that you can help him! Sometimes you have to do everything you can to protect your children, and if you f-fail…well…let's just say that failure isn't an option when you love someone, and neither is giving up on the lad." Liam Lorcan was visibly shaking, his eyes were unfocused and the shadows in them had grown marginally.

Still steaming, the werewolf's jaw stiffened and his anger was starting to get the best of him as he stared down the rogue. Remus' head was swimming with the accusations of cowardice against him, so when he blurted out the first thing to pop into his head, he knew it had been a mistake. "I guess you're right, you know all about that type of failure don't you?!!!!" As soon as the words had left his mouth, he froze; knowing that the rogue was going to understand it differently then he had meant it. It was supposed to have been sarcastic but he had picked the wrong person to say it to.

In one swift movement, Bruster shot his hand out, a thin blade popping out of his right wrist cuff. He turned around and pinned Remus to the wall with his arms, pressing the sharp blade against his throat. His eyes were wild and his body was shaking violently, as if he was restraining a monster within him. The rogue's jaw was fixed in a bestial snarl. The air cracked with power and Remus felt like he was paralyzed under his companion's malevolent gaze.

Remus had his hands up, a panicked expression making its way onto his face. "Bruce, please…I didn't mean to imply _that_. I don't know what I meant, but it was foolish and wrong of me to say. Please, put the blade down. Harry can come in here any second and he won't know what to think."

Bruce blinked, retracting his blade and breathing hard. He let go of Remus and decided it would be best not to look at him until he cooled down. The werewolf watched as Bruce paced the room like a vicious panther, his eyes flashing and his hands fisted at his sides.

Just then Harry exited the loo, confused as to why their new company looked so agitated. "Is something wrong?" Harry asked to no one in particular, glancing at both older men who had frozen in their places as if they had been caught in the middle of something disagreeable.

Remus observed Bruce, trying to see how he would act towards Harry while he was still rather angry. He was ready to sprint into action, thinking of a way that he could clear a clean path to shield his charge would anything happen. To his grand surprise, Bruce smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair, only small traces of his anger or madness shinning through the intensity of his eyes or the set of his jaw.

"It's nothing to worry about, lad. We we're just having a chat, your uncle and I-- weren't we, Remus? And we're going outside to finish our chat and catch a bit of fresh air. Why don't ya eat yer meal in relative peace without us to bother ya!" he said in a mock cheerful voice.

Remus nodded, he was too shocked to articulate words. One minute ago, he had had a dagger pressed against his throat; a second later, the rogue was acting amiable with a child.

Sending a look at Remus that indicated that he was to follow him, Bruce walked out to the balcony.

Harry shrugged and entered the kitchen, wondering why his guardian had such a strange expression on his face.

Remus gave Harry an empty smile and followed Bruce out to the balcony. "I need to apologize; my temper got the best of me." Remus turned to the older man after he had closed the sliding glass door behind him. He fixed his eyes on the floor dejectedly, knowing his words had cut Bruce deeply. He was truly ashamed of himself.

Bruce was shaking even worse and his back was turned to the werewolf. _**"I HATE HIM!"**_ the voice attacked him so savagely that he was having trouble not turning his own wand against himself. He shut his eyes, whimpering when two small violet eyes stared so cold and dead back at him. He leaned over the railing, clutching the metal tightly, resisting the urge to purge his body of all the pain that was ripping his very soul apart.

"Bruce? I–d-do you need help?" Remus asked tentatively.

"Give me a minute, Remus. Just…don't say another word!" Bruce snapped, exhaling gustily, and trying to reinforce his mental barriers. He needed to keep his memories back…far back…where they belonged. He had few precious minutes left to seal his memories away before he lost it. He clutched the side of his head as screams echoed through his memories like lethal secrets and delivered an ear-splitting headache to his temple. His knees buckled as he struggled with the barriers, and his eyes had turned black, his pupils growing so large that any light became excruciatingly cruel.

For a few bone-chilling minutes, neither man spoke. Remus just watched the rogue carefully; honestly regretting what he had said. He was ashamed that he had let the hurtful words leave his lips. The rogue reached into the moleskin pouch on his belt with shaking hands and pulled out a small flask of Calming Draught. After downing an entire bottle, Bruce let it drop to the ground, not caring as it shattered into hundreds of little glass shards, and reached for another bottle, pouring the contents into his mouth desperately.

Moonlight danced on their skins, making them appear as if they were glowing. As Bruce turned to look at him, Remus was horrified to see the rogue's violet eyes glistening with unshed tears. Bruce looked away quickly. "This flat is too cramped for all of us. I'll be back in the morning and expect my breakfast served." Bruce said in what he hoped was his normal, amused filled voice, and not grief stricken like he now felt.

Chuckling, more out of relief that the older man was now joking more than anything, Remus said in a playful tone, "We'll have the spears out and the game hunted in no time."

"Sure," the rogue said gruffly. "Listen, Remus, I hope ya can understand why I can't be the hand I'm forcing ya to be. But it's hard enough to b' around him, I really can't afford to….do that right now." He said the last with his eyes closed, a hand cupping the runes on his left cheek and his breathing coming out in unsteady huffs.

"I understand, Bruce. And really, I feel terrible for what I said." Remus tried to convey how terribly sorry he was.

Bruce just smiled wanly, before pausing and boring into his eyes. "Ye know…" Bruce bore deeply into his eyes but his irises started to darken so quickly that he stopped just as Remus begun to feel the prickles that indicated an intrusion. "Never mind, wolf…another time I suppose." Bruce Disapparated to his usual haunts without another word.

Remus resisted the urge to hurl in order to alleviate the sickening pain in the pit if his stomach that bled into his heart. He was feeling horrible about what he had just said. Bruster was probably not going to sleep a wink, terrorizing the criminals of some small village that would awake to unhappy scenes of hog-tied and brutally beaten law breakers–Bruce never left them for dead, no matter how heinous their crime had been. The petty thieves were also left bounded but mercifully untouched. Remus leaned over the railing, releasing an anguished breath–he couldn't believe how docile Bruce had been with Harry, especially considering how painful it all probably was for him…

_**A/N: Please read and review, the button is right down there. lol I really appreciate the fact that people do take the time out to review and reveal what they thought. Even if its just a word, add it. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them and I'll get back to you inside a review.**_


	11. Strained

**Summary:** Lupin takes in an abused Harry from Privet Drive and the nine-year-old finds his first friends with the Weasleys. He is plunged into a world where he must recover and deal with the evil that Voldemort unleashed. Will love be enough? Canon pairings, added OC's, powerful Harry, age 9 trough seventh year

** Summary of Edge of Darkness Series**: For his entire life, Harry James Potter has been bombarded with unwavering evils...Will he succumb to the dark? or Will those who love him be the last chance to save the Boy-Who-Lived? Voldemort increases his ambitions and sets his sights on the entire world... How will Harry handle the weight of the world on his shoulders? This is a tale of a boy's struggle against all odds; while facing more danger, handling mysterious powers, and being faced with his romantic feelings for a certain beautiful girl...-

**Disclaimer**: yeah, right. Like any of this could ever belong to me. Not so much…everything in the Potter universe is a creation of JK Rowling herself. I just like to play with the characters!

_**Chapter Eleven**_**Strained**

**A/N:** This chapter really is in two parts. I am just about done with the other half. Enjoy and please review! Here if you really don't want to think about what to write copy and paste preferred message: 'It was good!', 'Great chapter!', 'Remus is my !'

_So there, not that hard is it? _: P

"_**HARRY!!!!"**_Twisted, sharp and jagged images flooded his mind like rushing river water, poisoned his sleep, and through flashes something was slithering through; guile and smooth, floating into his dream like a vile vicious demon preying upon a forced connection with ravenous greed. It was something that Harry could not even begin to recognize. The bolts of lightning flashed and thundered and still he heard the anguished scream of a woman, as clear as any night at Privet Drive.

His mother, the woman that held no face to a lonely knobby-kneed orphan, fell to the floor slowly, like a feather falling from the sky. An indiscernible black mass hovered around the frame of the door, blurry and obscure in its indefinite shape, gliding, floating with wisps curling and petting the dark that made shivers run down his spine like an icy trail of water on unprotected skin. A smack of overly luminous thunder hit, hard like a cleaver on slab of wood, and Harry could hear a gentle male voice, comforting and fading away into the backdrop. _"Stay strong, sport…" _

Another flash of bright thunder mixed and twisted with a cruel green, fast and quick like the shattering crack spread over a thin shelf of melting ice. Jumbled images showed his mother fall again, her auburn locks spilling over her cold, empty emerald eyes, as a cruel laugh got louder and louder—inhumanly cold-- but as she fell again, Harry could see his own emerald eyes staring back at him in all openness as they morphed into a deep flash of light that savagely casts a bitter blanket of algid death over his own vision. A shriek sounded and bounced off his ears, more like the hiss of a furious snake or the cries of a suffering pitiful soul as he waits for darkness to claim him for the last time. With a horror, Harry realized that there was something off. He was settled into darkness, as if sucked from the nightmare that he had seen before so often, and into an unfamiliar dark hole.

Harry looked down, realizing that he was still wearing what he had worn to bed. The pit only offered a stifling darkness, void of sound or movement. It chilled his bones and sent cold to course through his body in a way that paralyzed him, eerie shivers running down his spine. Afraid to take a step to find that there was no solidity beneath his feet, Harry looked up and around, his breathing coming in from his lungs in sharp rasps. Yet, still there was no sound. Suddenly a fire awoke and lit a ring around him, causing him to stumble in a panic as it neared him. There was no warmth in the flames; they were cold and menacing, angry even, as they roared around him. But he could hear the flames crackle and pop, burning and alive. _"HARRY!!!!"_ the cry came in again, and the scream was deafening as it bounced off the darkness and continued to ring through the endlessness, like there were tunnels that could spread such a sound.

Steady as a heart beat, the sound came back as it grew and swirled around the flames and was fed to the young boy's ears. It expanded and slashed…the screams began to vibrate and envelope and whip every sound into one. It was like a siren, like hundreds of voices shrieking at once, blasting from all directions and swallowing him whole. The flames extinguished and the screams shook the dark and woke it, folding and tearing like the jaws of angry beasts. Screams that were deafening kept feeding the dark until it hurt too much to be there. Harry shut his eyes tight and clasped hands over his ears, trying to drown the voices. The fire began to abate around him and it was replaced with pain, a searing ache on his lightning-bolt shaped scar, like the feeling of freshly sliced skin before blood pools to the top. A clap of thunder shook his surroundings and it sounded like glass shattering as the room flooded with light and his scar returned to unfeeling. And with that, Harry awoke.

Gasping, Harry sat up with a sharp jolt, the thunder roaring outside and lighting the sky with vivid blues and purples. Placing a hand on his lightning-bolt shaped scar, he shivered though the room was still pleasantly warm and quickly dropped his shaking arm to his side. The scar stung a bit and it felt uncomfortable, but it wasn't painful anymore.

Sighing in resignation for making the promise, he grudgingly looked under his pillow. The journal that Remus had given him at Christmas lay there. It wasn't extra special or anything; a criss-cross permanent spine made of brown leather with a brass clasp and yellowish, crisp honeysuckle pages. It had come with a large white quill and an ink well but Harry had no idea how to use it yet. Luckily, Remus had found a regular box of school pencils, pointy No.2's, the good kind, too. The youth's face went into a frown but he knew there was no way to get out of writing. Mind Healer Watson had told him that if he didn't want to talk to her at sessions anymore then he would have to conform to write in his journal. It wasn't that he didn't like her; he was just so tired of learning that his whole life had been so screwed up. It's not like he could go back with the rubber at end of his new pencil and erase it all away, so what was so wrong about just leaving it all alone?

Harry began to write:

* * *

**_ I had a_**_** bad dream. It had the green light again or the curse, as Dumbledore tells me** (will I ever learn more about magic?), **and the laughing. I hate that I can't just forget, but it's what I have left of my parents. Their screams… **how sad**… and since that session with M.H Watson, I've tried to imagine what my mum's voice would have sounded like if she hadn't been screaming. I don't think I've gotten it right yet, but it's a sweet and warm voice, the type that's perfect for lullabies. I try to do it now when I feel like a flashback is coming on; before I black out, I try to hear her voice calming me down. Sometimes I need something more solid to use, so I imagine Remus hugging me. It was the first hug I have ever had.**_

_** The thought terrifies me because things can't ever stay this good for long, because no one really knows the Harry that hides behind the mask. No one knows the pain of sitting in their own dark cave and wishing with your eyes shut, your breath coming in sharp, and your stomach grumbling with hunger, to be free. To fly in the sky and truly disappear where pain can't find you and your heart doesn't have to lodge itself in your throat. Because no one really knows that Harry, not even M.H Watson, because he hides and tries to stay safe. That **'Freak',**the one that has only ever wanted to be loved, doesn't care if he wasn't really to blame for the way he was abused**,** that** 'Boy'**doesn't care if it was Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's fault that he has more scars on his body than anyone ever should.** _

_** H****arry James Potter, who's famous because his parents died and left him to suffer every day of his childhood, will never fully get better and stop from flinching away from strangers, or from reliving memories of times when he was broken, no matter how long he's able keep them away by trying to remember to think about his new friends and his guardian. Even now, I try to close that Harry off because he whimpers and he's weak; he's scared. And he protects himself and me in the only way he knows how: to run, to hide, and to pretend to not exist. Because that's what the Dursleys did, that's what the school, the neighbors, and every person did, and realizing it won't make it all disappear. So, I don't want to **'talk!'**I don't want to talk about the broken Harry; I want the new Harry to try to fill himself with the happiness he can get. Like a fresh breath of air out of the cupboard, and it means the world to me to make it last—to make** any **amount of time that Moony can stand with me count. Maybe that part of me will get written in here, because he's not coming out of the cupboard for a long while, no matter how much it'll disappoint M.H Watson.** _

_(What else can I write to fill up the** 'stupid'** page?!)_

_** Remus is a werewolf. I don't think I'll ever be afraid of him; I've never met somebody so nice. I make sure not to be bad because I don't want him to leave me either. It's scary to think that one day he won't come back for me after a full moon. At the full moon, Moony's hair gets shaggier and he gets really tired and sick. Then his eyes get a tinge of amber in them, making him avoid looking at me in the eyes all day. And all I want to do is make the sadness in his eyes leave because he's really a good guy. After the full moon passes, he picks me up from the Weasleys and he pretends to be all full of energy, but I know it's a lie because he thinks that werewolves are something to be ashamed of being, like **'freak'** is. But I know better and when we get to the flat, he asks me what I want to do and I always tell him I want to read just so that he can lie on the couch and sleep all day.** _

_** I watch over him just in case, reading a book I found on werewolves and other magical animals. Bruster said;** "It is an affliction, not a moral failing."**He explained that people hate Remus because they consider him a beast for what he becomes during a full moon, when they never see** 'the heart of a friendly scholarly man who was inflicted with an illness out of his control' (I think that's what Bruce said?) **If**** the world shuns Remus, I'll stay with him as long as he'll have me.** (However long that will be.) **So I won't worry all that much. Anyway, he usually looks a lot better in the morning after sleeping away the day, even though he sometimes has more scars. He has scars, too, just like me! Now it makes me feel like I'm not so alone. The wolf does that to him and other people did it to me, **terrible people..._

_** But not everything's been okay with Moony. But complaining goes against the rules: Never ask for help, don't ask questions, pretend to be invisible, and never ever complain. It will only get worse if you do. Although, to be fair, I'm not very happy with either of them right now—**Dumbledore included. **When Dumbledore came to take me from The Burrow he was talking to the Weasleys about me. I just want to have at least someone tell me what's going on before I go bonkers.** _

**_ Come on, Moony, please don't let me down…I've had enough of those to last a hundred lifetimes. It's so strange to be in this new world. All I want to do is find out more about magic and learn about what my new place in it would be. The way that everyone tries to keep things from me is starting to suffocate me. _**

_** Till next time… (**Maybe after Ginny's birthday next week) **Moony also says that were going down to see the house my dad grew up in. I'm excited but a little scared, it all seems too much. At least at Remus' flat I slept on the couch, and so it was burrowed, but the Manor, if it all works out, it will be a home. I don't remember ever having one of those; Privet Drive definitely was never mine and the cupboard under the stairs has too many horrible memories to feel completely safe. I don't understand how to handle having something like that. If that gets taken away it'll just be worse and so it doesn't feel too safe. I can't deal with this now; I'm getting some fresh air outside.**_

* * *

Tucking away the journal under the maroon duvet, he lifted himself off his makeshift bed, and squinted through the darkness, making his way towards the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony. He took careful steps, creeping across the lush blue Gerber so that he wouldn't be heard. Harry brushed back light-brown canvas curtains with the tips of his fingers, his chest heaving as he tried not to confuse the purple flashes of lightning for the green ones in his dream.

Gazing out the window, he was surprised to find no sign of nimble tears grazing the glass, nor the wet trails of tiny pools that would collect on the balconies nicks and crannies when it rained. His eyes swept over the sky, finding only lone birds patrolling the night and circling around their nest, dark acrid clouds forming canopies in the sky and smacking bolts of lights together so that they collided and thundered.

He was fascinated by the fact that it was thundering without a sight of rain and by the colors of the skies as they roared alive. Harry opened the glass doors to find a hunched form sitting on the balcony rail and peering up into the beautiful sight he had just observed. It was Bruce, sitting on the rail, his head tilted upwards so that Harry could only see the side of his face. He stood there, just watching him, waiting to see if he could possibly find out more about the mysterious Bruce, when a voice tore through the silence.

"Are ya just gonna stand there? Or are ya going to join me to observe Mother Nature at its most sorrowful beauty?" Bruster spoke gently, a touch of amusement coloring his voice. He didn't turn around at all, concealing most of his body in shadow.

"Sorry," Harry apologized quickly, taking on a sheepish expression. "I was just wondering what you were doing here. I thought you left hours ago."

"I was about to but grew curious when the clouds began to drift north and darken. Wee bit fascinating isn't?" Bruce said in a far away tone, still not facing the youth.

Harry approached slowly, his eyes fixed on the ritual dance of the sky, the wind swirling around him and ruffling his nightclothes (which actually fit) as he pushed his nightmare to the back of his mind. "Yeah, it's kinda nice."

After a brief silence, Bruce said, "No, I mean the life of the city at night."

"Huh?" Harry looked around perplexed, finding the city quite stranded, the street lights illuminating the flats of the complex in front of theirs, across the lonely street.

"Life…so elusive for some isn't it? Come closer, there." Bruce waited till the young boy had reached his side, extending a finger to point at a rubbish bin at the mouth of a dark alley.

"I don't see anything," Harry confessed as he peered into the direction that the rogue had indicated, "just a rubbish bin."

Bruce chuckled, legs still hanging over the railing. He leaned further even more, a feat that seemed to concern him very little as his torso was almost completely over the railing and his only lifeline was one hand curled around the cool metal. Stretching out his free hand further, the rogue used his index to point at the alley. "Look closer, lad, right beyond the outskirts of the fading light."

After forcefully reminding himself not to stare a the tattooed knuckles of the man, Harry did as he was told and found a large black cat; next to her was three tiny kittens, lying on a box and huddling together for warmth. Harry looked back at Bruce's face, finding two violet orbs staring back at him, his bearded face looking so young and spent all at the same time.

"Isn't that a nice sight? And right over there, through that first window, ye'll find an old man sleeping on a rocking chair. His mouth is open enough to catch all the flies of London."

Harry laughed at the small joke, finding the sleeping old man slumped on his chair, a cardigan thrown over his shoulders carefully.

"That was his daughter. She draped it over him an hour ago. Kissed the old man on the bald of his head before she left," Bruce said softly, his face masking itself in shadow. He suddenly frowned. "I'd wished she would have closed the drapes...maybe the menacing cat will find a more suitable home tomorrow…" he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

"Are you okay, Bruster?" Harry inquired carefully, concerned about Bruster's less than cheerful words.

Bruce chuckled mirthlessly. "As fine as we can expect. I'm still on this side of the fence, if you understand the meaning…"

"What?"

"Nothing…I just mean that I'm still in London, not…home…wherever that is... I'm sorry, lad…I just want to sit here in the dark for a while." Bruce let out a strained laugh. "How pathetic am I for an old coot?"

"You're wrong; maybe you're just lost, like me." Harry said confidently as he got closer to Bruce and saw how sad his violet eyes seemed. Finding himself uncomfortable with being out of his element, Harry bit his lip, knowing it just wouldn't feel right to leave the man all by himself. "Does…something here remind you of…err…something else?" Harry asked tentatively, blushing.

Bruce chuckled darkly, his eyes dark. "If only you knew, lad..."

"I mean…I just thought that…never mind. I'll leave you alone."

"Please stay, lad…looked like ya weren't having much of a good time of it in there."

Harry stopped mid-stride, turning back around with relief. He didn't want to be alone; being alone meant that he would fall asleep and have the horrible nightmare again. And the odd feeling in his scar was disconcerting at the very least.

Bruster waited till the child had come back around and said, rather sadly, "I promised someone that I would never smoke the pipe…pity, I could really use one right now…with your uncle not having a drop of the drink in sight."

"I was the one who made him get rid of it, he doesn't need it." Harry admitted quietly, watching Bruce carefully, uncertain if the man would hurt him. It had been a bold move on Harry's part to discard Remus' bottles and if he hadn't been so scared of being sent away for disobeying Dumbledore, he wouldn't have worked up the nerve to do it. It had been the biggest relief of his life when Remus had laughed so heartily instead of attacking him. It stung to think that it had been a lie and that maybe the reason Remus wasn't talking to him anymore was because he had had enough of him. Maybe they could only take him in small doses--too much would incur his guardians to see the bad in him. _M.H Watson would hate that I haven't said any of this._

"I know, lad…" Bruce agreed, his dark violet eyes drifting off to the windows of the flats across from him and his calm expression putting Harry at ease.

"Does it make you forget, sir? Forget pain and hurt, like it makes it into anger or something funny so that you don't have to feel anymore?" The question was innocent; no doubt, the youth's mind could not connect alcohol with a widely accepted purpose.

Giving the lad a calculative look and finding himself turning away from those large, bright green eyes, the rogue shook his head. "No, Harry, fools drink because it numbs them to not feel anything. Funny thing is that ya stand the risk of losing yerself so completely that one day they'll look into the mirror and see a monster not fit for happiness. Sometimes it's okay when it becomes too much, but once ya surrender to the stuff, ya surrender to the hell of yer life gone wrong. Poor judgment and weakness lies at the desolate drops at the bottom and it takes a small miracle to recover from such addiction to emptiness and bitter anger."

"My uncle said once that it made me invisible, that it made him forget that I added to his troubles. I don't think it works though, because he was always looking at me when he said it, and I always thought … he wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, you know. But he did know how to throw his weight around," Harry added bitterly, like a strangely detached after thought.

His eyes were unfocused as he continued, "He was…" Harry snapped his mouth shut, looking down at his feet and turning his face off to the side. For a second, he felt horribly embarrassed that he had said any of that out loud. It had been easy to blame the bottle, blame the man at the corner shop and glare as his uncle paid and left him in the back of the hot, locked car. It was hard to blame the one man that he was related to by blood when all the horrible things he had ever known had been treated as truths.

But no, he knew better, and he knew that he was stronger and better because he was still nice, he was still Harry, and he hated his relatives for ever making him think that he was bad, that he was wrong. Harry hated Dudley and his bullying and all his stupid friends, hated his aunt for being cold and cruel to him, and hated with all his might his uncle, who would beat him and lash out endless threats and words that still left wounds in his heart. And it hurt now that he realized that they had hated him too.

But he knew he had to be strong or Remus would hate him, everyone would hate him if he was bad and admitted how he felt sad that his new guardian felt the need to keep things from him. Who was he to ask for more? His eyes widened as he realized where he still was and he made to turn around, not realizing the sad look Bruce had cast his way.

"Wait, lad." Bruce waved him over and Harry reluctantly returned with his head down. What little of the rogue's face that Harry could see as he chanced a glance up was almost serene, touched by a beam of light emanating from the tip of Bruce's mahogany and golden-handled wand. His half-smile looked almost odd on his roughly handsome face, and his eyes contained something unidentifiable--sadness?

"Sit down, right here on the railing." Bruce knew that he was just trying to distract the boy, but he knew well enough that Harry wouldn't be comfortable enough around him to speak so openly again. The boy would lie till his tongue went dry if he as much as tried to console him. So he waited for the child to respond and hoped that Remus would stop being an idiot and would at least talk to the child soon, before Harry blamed himself further and more emotional harm damaged the boy for life. He didn't think the child could take any more pain or disappointments in his life. And he had already placed too much hope in the situation to have that turn back into the stab of hurt.

"_Where_?!" Harry asked, giving Bruce a look that was the equivalent to looking at a mad man.

Bruce looked back at him with a flicker of amusement burning in the violet of his eyes. "Oh, are ya afraid? What a pity it is that ya don't have the bravery to even place yer bottom on a wee ledge…" He teased as he wore a smile to lessen the sting of the words.

Harry glared half-heartedly at the tall man, noticing that he was at least higher than six feet (not that he had anything on Hagrid). "I'm not scared!" the youth declared defiantly, his eyes hard and shinning.

Chuckling, Bruce repeated his request. "Well, then, what are you waiting for?" He admired that the child could find the strength to hold his head up, the strength to fight on. He had no doubt that this was James' son; the man had been an unwavering fighter. For all his faults, James had always fought for his beliefs and for his friends. It was heartening to see that although the boy had been abused, he did not falter to dark and dangerous paths like most. The lad was respectful, a bit quieter than he would be if he got comfortable enough, but even now the boy had a glint of child-like mischievousness. And he was glad that the boy's relatives had not been able to take that from Harry.

The railing was slick with moisture from the cool night air, making Harry gulp as he approached it and saw what a long drop it would be if he fell. He paused momentarily to look back at Bruce, who was grinning.

The rogue tapped the railing with his wand, motioning with his other hand for the boy to sit.

Harry gulped again.

"Speed it up, lad. The sun will return before yer even done just thinking about it." Seeing Harry when he glanced back, he extended a hand out, and assured him so gently that Harry couldn't help but trust the man. "I give ya my word that I won't let ya fall. Lorcan honor!"

Harry nodded and climbed on top of the black iron work, using the older man's hand for balance.

"Ya see that tarp over there?" The rouge pointed at a tarp that was covering a cabby on the street below after Harry had settled on the rail.

"Yeah."

"If ya start to fall, I'll put a flying charm on it and make it catch ya." Bruce said matter-o-factly, as if he made offers like that frequently. Obviously, the youth didn't have to know that he had just cast an invisible barrier that would catch the child like a fish in a net if he were to fall. Nothing short of a giant could break the spell.

"A flying charm? I read once a story that had a flying carpet. Is that the thing done with a wand to make it move?" Harry said with eyebrows furrowed, watching as the cat licked clean its kittens with its darting pink tongue.

With Remus so obviously restraining his use of magic and the Weasley's mostly sticking to household charms, Harry was disappointed that he wasn't learning more about how to use a wand. Even while reading, Remus stuck to historical material for some unknown reason. He found magic fascinating and he hoped that his guardian didn't think that he was afraid of it or something. _Maybe he doesn't want to tease me? What if it had something to do with the green flames that burned down the Dursley's house? Maybe I'm just a fre- Stop! Healer Watson said that those thoughts weren't okay. _They went into the bad word box that he wasn't allowed to say anymore, along with 'stupid', 'boy', 'I deserved it', and dozens of others that he dared no think about.

Not even bothering to look surprised as he observed the sprightly youth's eyes glaze over in thought, Bruce sighed. "Yer being way too sheltered, lad." He smiled, offering what little comfort he could give to the child who was a lot smaller than he should have been by this stage in his life. Malnourishment and abuse could do that he supposed.

"Tell me about it." Harry chuckled, finding the fact that Bruce seemed to know so much, yet hide most about himself away, strange. He glanced back at the rogue's face to see him looking at a window that led to a room that was newly bathed in light across from their building. A mother held her baby and rocked him back to sleep. A man approached behind her with a bottle and took the baby into his arms, making funny faces. It was about four in the morning and it felt strange to sneak a peak at such peace and happiness.

Bruce was shaking slightly again, tiny trembles that Harry wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't seen Bruce's quaking hands, but his eyes seemed to be lost in dark depths within the violet. Bruce's jaw was set, clenching his teeth against the pain in his heart that he knew would come.

Wanting to take Bruce's mind off whatever was causing such disarray, Harry asked, "So, how long do you plan to stay out here?"

Bruce turned his head a small fraction and nodded in his direction of the moon. "Until that is replaced with the sun."

Harry smiled. "So, who are you? Lupin seems to know you," he said as if they were about to discuss the uses of dung beetles in Egyptian tombs.

The rogue raised an eyebrow, still swinging his legs as they hung from the railing and his hand trailed near Harry in case the boy suddenly lost his grip. "Whatever happened to Uncle Moony? He told me you've recently stopped using that so often," he asked in a calm, curious tone.

"I don't know. It's like he's keeping so much from me, and then he feels so far away even though he's right by my side…maybe he's just tired of me? Ever since all of you talked in Dumbledore's office, it's like we're just strangers again."

Bruce clasped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Give the bloke a chance, will ya? He just has years of problems to deal with and he's afraid that he'll make an unsuitable guardian."

"It's okay though. I just want a friend, Mr. Lorcan. If it makes him feel better…I think I prefer that over what he's trying to do now. I can take care of myself, sir."

Bruster resisted a shudder when he looked into the boy's emerald eyes; there was a no glint of youth or naivety there. It was like looking into the eyes of an Auror veteran, and the mere thought of thinking about what had been done to the child unsettled him. He couldn't imagine that James would have wanted his son go though something like that. "Don't say _Mr. Lorcan_ or _sir_, it makes me feel_responsible_." He spat the word out like a bad taste in is mouth, smiling at Harry with amusement dancing in his eyes. "I don't need any attachments to all this." He wildly motioned with his arms and Harry had no idea what the man was referring to.

Harry shrugged and didn't think to ask what the man meant. "You still haven't answered my question."

"I'm Irish?" Bruster offered, watching as the young boy glared at him and allowing himself a small chuckle.

Harry trailed his finger across the tiny pools of water that had collected on top of the iron. "And I have green ey--" Harry stopped, swallowing as he recalled the green light that had flooded out of those cold, empty eyes in his nightmare. Bruster decided not to take notice, for which Harry was grateful, and merely sent him a smirk. "And I have five fingers on each hand," Harry finally said with an added roll of the eyes. After frowning and looking up to the rogue's face, eyes drifting towards the runes on his cheek and hands, the young boy asked again, "Who are you really?"

"Tell me about yer childhood, Harry, and I'll tell ya about me life. Let me know about the dreams that haunt ya and I promise to tell ya mine." Bruce hadn't turned to look at him, but there was something in his voice that sliced the air and poised the statement to seem resigned. Like the man _would_ really keep to his word and tell him all about himself.

"Well... I-I don't want to get into all that."

"Well…doesn't it feel better for us blokes to keep that buried from just anyone. There are things other folks shouldn't know and it's a comfort to know that there is one less person that will pity ya. That there is one person who is willing to be yer friend just because of who ya are and not because of what ya've been through."

"That makes sense, I'm sorry."

"Don't let it get yer knickers in a twist, lad. We're just two orphans that can hopefully be friends?"

"I'd like that. " Harry smiled, realizing that Bruster had just revealed at least a part of himself.

"Good. Anyway, as friends of course, ya can ask me or tell me anything ya please and I will try to respond," he added, "maybe…" when Harry's eyes swiveled towards him with a mischief he knew all too well.

"Fine," Harry conceded as he looked back towards the cat. "Have you ever wanted pet?" Ripper was a monster, so he never counted as such. He still liked dogs more than cats because they played more.

With an eyebrow rising into the dark hair that swept casually over his temple, Bruce gave him an 'are you serious' look. "A feline?" Bruster fixed the cat with look of distaste before turning towards Harry with a blank expression.

"Well?" Harry prompted, having no other reason to ask but to make meaningless conversation in order to forget his dream.

"No, I prefer the bigger beast me self."

"There was this lady in my old hom-…neighborhood that was completely off her rocker and she had this house that smelled a lot like cabbage. She must have had hundreds of cats and they did nothing but lie about all day. Some of them were right foul with me; glaring, hissing. You name it, they did it." Harry scrunched up his face at the memory of her dull conversations and heapfulls of albums of the blasted cats.

Bruce's eyes shined bright as he listened to the boy's words, but he looked away when Harry met his eyes, his kind face settling on the window with the baby being lulled back to sleep by both parents as they grinned. He let out a deep breath and Harry almost joined him. "Back when I was growing up, I had a winged horse, a fine Clavisdale breed. We got along fine then; spending hours outside or soaring aimlessly into the sky. Since I was tutored at home by me Da and me Grandad, I never went to Hogwarts or any of that rubbish. Me Da thought that sending me away to a boarding school was unthinkable and he disliked the disunity and overall fat-headedness of the placements. We Lorcans have a lot of pride and traditions and I suppose, since me Ma died giving birth to me, he couldn't stomach me being away from him and unprotected.

"What with the unnatural things they do I that school. They split you up by what one value seems to stick up the most but when they group younglings so alike together…you get a bad mix of tykes that don't get to see the other sides as well as they ought ta. There is a reason why people aren't separated like that in the world. People need to gather their strengths and not focus on their differences. Say I was brave but I needed to learn that it was okay to plan right, unless I was exposed to that I'd be just as foolish as the coward who couldn't stand up for himself because he wasn't given time to plan."

"They do that? Split up each other like that?" Harry asked innocently, thinking back to the Great Hall the night Dumbledore had taken him in to eat at the head table. There _had_ been four separate tables that were spaced apart from each other lining the hall.

"Most schools do it, lad. You'll learn about it soon and they'll somehow convince you that it's right." Clenching a fist, Bruce's expression changed to distaste. "Magical schools are notorious for such harebrained actions. It's utterly ridiculous and I was glad to grow up away from that, and so was me Da. He said it made me a better man. That it was up to me to help wherever I could."

"Sounds like a great Dad." Harry said after the rogue grew silent.

The youth's words caused him to grin as he nodded. "He was the best. And when I was in me teens, he and Grand died. I was left to me nice Auntie Dora, who was already reaching the ripe age of two-hundred years. She lived long enough for me to turn seventeen, and I joined the ministry after that." Bruce looked sullen as he finished speaking to Harry, his eyes alive with emotion as he remembered his childhood.

Suddenly remembering the horse, Harry asked, "What happened to the horse?" quietly, as not to upset the man.

Bruce smiled. "He helped me get through the loss of me Da along with me Aunt. He was old though, been alive ages before I was even born, so he grew blind and slowly passed away. It was the most peaceful thing I have ever seen, and he gave me this odd nod like he could speak and understand, his marvelous white wings folding out and almost embracing me. I knew he was okay, and I let him go just like that."

Harry frowned, his eyes straying away from the rogue and towards the dark clouds. "That sounds rather sad." The thunder had abated and he was rather relived to find that he wouldn't have to hear the blasted sound over Bruce's gentle voice.

As he spoke in a far away tone, Bruce appeared almost serene as he basked in his memories. "It wasn't. It was his time and I had no right to make him live with his body failing him like it was at his old age. It hurt, but I can bear a passing like that. Besides his spirit, we both knew he was going home and that he wasn't really being torn away from me…it was his time and I accepted the fact. Death, Harry, may sometimes not be so cruel and empty. But when it is, the pain is incorrigible. There is only so much that a poor soul can take before it strains under the pressure." Avoiding the youth's eyes, the rogue bowed his head, a distinct darkness crossing across his pupils and settling there.

Harry nodded his face perfectly blank of any expression. His thoughts kept drifting to the dream and the scream. The loud scream that caused his chest to feel heavy and his heart to ache had now been accompanied by a man's voice_. 'Stay strong, sport…' _Had those been his Dad's final words? Had he known that they were going to die? No, he would not cry. He schooled his features to show blank like he used to when his relatives would say hurtful things or hit him.

He continued to hide his raging thoughts, a prickly feeling charging under his skin like it had been doing periodically for months now. He didn't think it would help anyone to know what was going on inside of him. Hopefully, it was just growing pains and by the time he went to Hogwarts he wouldn't look like an emaciated toddler.

Growing up, Harry had always been smaller than all the other kids his age (although he couldn't count his pig of a cousin Dudley for comparison). Never had he allowed himself to care about his appearance; as long as his hair stayed decent he didn't want to know how he looked. He still shuddered to think about the time his aunt had cut it and he had grown it back over night. The youth still had scars to show for that defiant act of freakishness, thank you very much.

There was no use in concentrating on his awkward knobby knees, tiny body, and the ribs that stretched over the skin. Add his stupid scars in the mix and just the thought of thinking about his appearance was depressing. Aunt Petunia had once confessed that he had his mother's eyes and his father's hair. That single statement had made him so happy that, to his aunt and uncle's horror, he had begun to play and laugh with his invisible pet dog 'tickles' just like any other five-year-old did. That had lasted for nearly a month, before Christmas had again reminded him that they were dead and that no one would much care if he so much as died. So he buried 'tickles' away when his uncle threatened a beating if he kept acting like a hideous smiling buffoon and Dudley had taken it upon himself to remind him—with his fist and lackeys—that no one much cared to protect him.

He had found smiling hard as he realized that his eyes and hair were pathetic mementos of his parents. Amidst his thoughts, Harry barely noticed that a silence had settled between him and Bruce as their eyes stayed transfixed at the window of the family of three. Bruster began to whistle a soft morose tune and Harry's eyes began to close to the hushed notes of the lament.

Before the boy could harm himself, Bruce grabbed the child by the shoulders and leaned him over towards his side, wrapping a strong arm around the sleeping boy. When the sun peaked up over the shadowed clouds, he rose and hopped from the railing, cradling Harry in his arms. The green-eyed boy had fallen fully asleep soon after the family of three had shut the lights and had gone back to bed. He opened the screen door, being careful with Harry's scrawny form, and laid the boy on the couch just as Remus exited his room.

"What's going on here?" Remus asked tiredly as if it was a regular occurrence, walking into the kitchen with the intention of making some hearty tea that would wake him up completely.

Bruce's expression was distant and forlorn as he turned around to answer Remus. When he turned back around, his eyes conveyed an entirely different emotion at the sight of Harry peacefully slumbering on the couch, balled up and covered by a blanket as tousles of dark hair spilled over the pillow. It was awe, sadness, but most of all, pain.

For in that fleeting moment he saw his son, his slaughtered first born resting after his father had tucked him in. It had been a murder of hateful intentions that had been an abomination to all human morality, the merciless murder of an innocent who had bled for his family to spare them from pain. Ringing in his ears was the last cry of his little boy, _**"I HATE HIM!" **_The words attacked him savagely again and the rogue's breath hitched as his heart ached with pain that was beyond anything anyone could ever understand. Fortifying his mental shields and forcing down a sob, Bruce continued to watch Harry as he answered in a strained voice and forced his darkened eyes to reality and away from cruel sights, "He had a nightmare and saw me outside. There he fell asleep," he said in a far away tone, forcing himself to turn away.

"Oh, that nightmare…" Remus paused and shivered at the thought. "Nonetheless, he needs to wake soon if we're going down to Diagon Alley to meet his classmate."

Bruce nodded and hung his head, bracing himself. "I need to be there today, don't leave me out of yer sight. I don't trust myself to go off on me own again." He looked up to Remus, his eyes dark and shinning.

Frowning, Remus asked, "Really, why is that?"

Bruce's eyes darkened again, his mind running a reel of sealed memories. "It would have been his birthday today," he whispered.

The cup in Remus' hand shattered_. Does he know that I know, _Remus thought "I'm so sor--"

"I'd do anything to have ya not finish that sentence, Remus." the fallen rogue whispered sullenly, his eyes closing. "Let's just forget about it, alright?" He passed a trembling hand over the runes on his cheek and looked back up to his old friend.

"Alright, Bruce. I underst--" Bruce shot him a glare and Remus flushed, knowing that no, he couldn't _ever_ understand. He sighed, and nodded. "Just keep yourself together?"

"I will," Bruster promised as he ran a hand through his hair. "Tell the lad to get ready then, we need to go."

"I'll do that." Remus watched as the rogue gave him a glance back before exiting into the balcony again. Bruce looked like he was going to swing himself over the railing, but instead did a hand stand, with his hands grasping the bars. He appeared to be meditating as his hands held his muscular body up in the air rigidly. If he lost balance, the rogue could easily plummet down to his death, and that wasn't even one of the riskier things the rogue usually did. Remus smirked and shook his head, walking over to Harry and stirring him from his peaceful sleep.

"Harry, you have to get up," Remus spoke gently, sweeping his hand over Harry's wild hair and smiling at the way the little boy could look so peaceful and unburdened in his sleep. He marveled at that sometimes, the life in Harry's eyes, the ones that had seen things that no child should ever suffer through, always shined bright like shiny jade marbles. The same careless and friendly smiles stole over his face at times and Remus could scarcely imagine ever feeling so elated to be alive.

Blinking owlishly, Harry opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. "Time already?"

"Yes, go get ready. We have a big day ahead of us."

It was odd how Harry's face displayed all of his emotions so vividly in a single instant. There was a hint of excitement, anxiety, and cautiousness sweeping over his face before he steeled himself and fixed on his neutral mask.

Almost releasing a sigh of frustration with himself for knowing that he was subtly avoiding the child so that he wouldn't have to gather any of the supposed Gryffindor courage that the insufferable sorting hat had claimed he had possessed in order to discuss the situation with Sirius. Remus just let his lips curve down in a slight frown.

"Go on then," Remus urged as he swept his hand over his sandy hair and smoothed back his mildly long, lightly grayed locks behind his ears and let Harry pass while he forced on what he knew to be a pathetic excuse for a smile.

Harry cast him a wary side glance. It was so painful to see that Remus averted his eyes, feeling for what might have been the hundredth time, like he didn't deserve to be the one left to care for Harry. It immediately caused his stomach to wrench. Almost as if his own body was protesting for trying to push his charge away whenever things got too difficult. He wasn't foolish to truly believe that Harry's encroaching powers were the only reason he had contacted Bruce, the rogue gave extraordinary advice and insight which usually lit a light on a blind man's task he would have been otherwise stumbling through.

True, Bruce was unpredictable and sometimes unstable but the man had become as close a friend as the Marauders had ever been. In fact, he had confided more about himself with the rogue in those few years that they had roamed the world, than he had ever done with his school friends. Sometimes Bruce had the intense ability to look into anyone's soul with those peculiar violet irises of his and find the turmoil and good in there.

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The day had set a vision of gloom, the clouds sealing off all traces of the sun as the trio entered Diagon Alley and made their way to Gringotts, pass shinning brooms on display—which Harry was confused about because he kept seeing signs about something named 'Quiditch'—and black and silver cauldrons for potions. Come to think of it, while at The Burrow, Ron had started to say something about brooms and he had been quieted by his brothers by a single mention of their mother, which led Harry to believe that someone was behind him not playing with brooms, whoever way that worked. On his previous visits, he had been so overwhelmed by all the magical displays that he hadn't really given any one item much thought—like it was all a big unit of sorts.

They walked down to Gringotts because Bruster needed some tomes from his family vault and he wanted both of them to go down with him. When they entered the familiar cart that would take them down, a goblin, who looked much like the rest, only grumpier, escorted them deep down into the tunnel system and halted the cart near a vault with an even larger door than Harrys'. The vault seemed even more secure and there was a haze of something around it, like it was being guarded by more than just the locks. Bruce had gotten up and Remus had followed him into the vault and had told Harry to stay put with the Goblin, who had in turn curled his lip in warning, exposing rows of threatening sharp teeth.

It had been strange because Bruce had frozen at the heavy iron door that had slid aside and wouldn't enter. He directed Remus where he was near the entrance, and his guardian had finally exited with a pile of old books. Bruce seemed kind of shaky even as he had amazingly shrunken the tomes into tiny pile that he stuffed into his robes.

Afterwards, Bruce led the way towards a small and dusty shop right across from Flourish & Blotts that housed rare books. It was called 'Libro Rarum', a funny name in Harry's opinion. Bruce peered through the glass with Harry, nodding at a pretty blond with glasses that had taken her eyes off a heavy tome in her hands. She was about twenty, and had big curious eyes that gave her a permanently interested expression.

Looking over the collection of tomes on display, Bruster exclaimed, "I want that one!" in a childlike voice. Harry suppressed a laugh by biting his lip.

"That's way over priced, Bruce!" Remus frowned deeply when the rogue took his cloak off, exposing his rugged looking vest and muscular torso. A chain hung around his neck that held a single ring caught the light and Harry observed the ring: a diamond heart with a silver crown and two polished hands holding the heart up on a band of glittering Celtic knots. There were also various dark runes on his chest in languages that Harry had never seen before. He let his gaze fall when he realized he had been staring; he hated when people used to gawk at him when they had realized that his scar was so bizarre.

Handing his cloak to Remus, who glared and deposited the garment on a lamp post, Bruce continued, "I know…that's why I want it. Besides it's an old one on the speculation behind the Knights of Veneficus Latito. Proves to be a spectacular read for ya, besides, I think this gloomy day calls for a bit of fun, don't you?" The rogue wagged his eyebrows and smiled.

Remus almost stopped when he reminded himself of what his friend was going through, but tried to show no signs of pity on his face. "You are not getting naked to see if you can get something discounted! Besides, there is no reason for you to not purchase it as it is; you're wealthy enough to buy the entire Alley!" Remus huffed and his glare intensified, indignant that the older man was going to show Harry how to flirt. For goodness sakes, the kid was only ten!

Harry laughed when Bruce ignored Remus and combed his dark hair back with his large hands. "I've told you this before: I'm a terrible cheap, can't for the life of me bring myself to act out my supposed status. Even in the past I had only what I needed." After grooming his face and smoothing out his dark jeans and boots, Bruce turned to Harry. Remus had taken to ignoring him, crossing his arms and leaning against the shop's outer wall.

"Harry, what d'ya say you help me out? Children are always nice mood starters. She'll see me with an adorable green-eyed boy and take me as some sensitive type, then I'll work me charm and she'll come on to me, then before we end up sha-

"BRUCE!!!!" Remus yelled, sweeping Harry into his arms and covering his ears with his palms. "What in Merlin's name are you thinking?!"

Bruce snorted with laughter. "Well…sorry, Remus. I guess we'll leave that an open statement then. Like I said, it's been a while since I've been around younglings." He smirked, his violet eyes dancing with amusement.

Harry looked at both of them bewildered; rubbing his ears after Remus had let him go. "What was that about?"

Bruce opened his mouth to speak but it was droned out by Remus voice. "Nothing, Harry. Don't worry about it." He paused and swept his hand over Harry's hair, inconspicuously crossing over the scar before nodding.

Bruster watched, disappointment rising in his chest, as Harry followed Remus' hand suspiciously and at the same time that the spell took affect, the boy tensed his jaw. Holding in a sigh of frustration to know that Remus didn't just realize that the lad had noticed his sneaky spell work, he said, "Just follow me, Harry."

As soon as they entered, the young blond was like a deer caught in the headlights, mesmerized by the power of Bruster's eyes. Harry smiled at her in greeting and started to explore the store. Bruce went straight for the tome in display, the expensive price advertised in magical letters above the heavy black leather binding. "Does this have any discounts?" he asked the pretty clerk. She failed to respond, too concentrated on taking him in. Her eyes roamed over his muscled chest and chiseled features, biting her lip as she took in the tattoos all over his body.

Eventually, she seemed to realize he had said something because she shook her head as if to clear it.

Suppressing a snort, Harry pretended to comb through an old pile of texts on wizard gardening. Bruster brought the tome over, passing it to her in the way that made it possible to brush his hand over hers. The clerk blushed and looked away.

"I asked ya if there were currently any discounts on this tome." Bruce whispered into her ear, with the pretense that he didn't want his young companion to hear. His lips brushed her ear, causing her to shiver.

"Are you okay?" Bruce inquired in a husky voice, sounding gentle and genuinely concerned. With strong hands, he grabbed her arms, getting nearer to her. "Ya seem a bit unsteady, r 'ya alright?"

The pretty clerk swallowed, her eyes shutting as her face became a startling shade of red. She stumbled as if her knees gave out, looking into Bruce's eyes, and flashing him a sheepish smile. She put her hands on his muscled arms in an effort to steady herself, but became even more disoriented when he hugged her to his body, making it look like he had just wanted to catch her. "Are ya sure? Ya seem a bit out of it. Now, I asked ya about this discount, but if yer--"

"No!!!! It's discounted! Don't leave." She separated herself from him ungracefully; biting her lip and turning away from him. Bruce smiled and kept holding her hand in a caring manner.

"Is it?" he asked in a whisper to her ear, continuing with the pretense that he just didn't want his young companion to hear, flickering his eyes over to Harry for effect.

She nodded her head, whispering, "Very much so."

"Really? The tome is that discounted?"

"Mmmm…hmmm…40"she hummed trying to keep her grip on the large tome with her free hand.

"Oh, really…I suppose I won't be able to purchase it." His eyes seemed to sadden with disappointment, and his plump lips twitched down into an upset frown.

"65!" she blurted out loudly when Bruster took a step back and was about to turn with his head bowed.

Twirling back around, Bruster made an expression of deep consideration by catching his lower lip between his teeth, getting just a step closer to her. "Ya see that lad over there?" Bruster pointed at Harry who had been paying attention to the rogue's actions from the corner of his eye and had been trying not to laugh, making it look like he was sad because he kept having to look down at his shoes to hide his face.

She looked over, and her eyes softened.

"I'm his uncle of sorts…his mother just abandoned the family for a snarky vampire, and left him to live with his father. I'm trying to cheer the lad up and he really wanted this tome. The problem is that I gave all me galleons to his father because they're really struggling to make a decent living. Ya see me problem don't ya?"

Her eyes said everything as she seemed to swoon at Bruster apparent sensitivity. "85...just for you and your handsome little nephew..."

Bruce let go of her hand, smiling and grabbing the tome as he brushed her hand again with his fingers. He brought his violet eyes to meet hers and she blushed again, her hair in disarray. She used a finger to straighten the spectacles on her nose, sending him a smile.

"Do you want…" Bruce moved nearer and nearer, "me to…" he got closer, his hand coming up around her face, "take--"

"Yes!!!" the clerk blurted out, looking surprised at herself as little patches of red blossomed over her flushed cheeks.

"—take that lint out of yer hair?" Bruce smiled as he plucked a piece of lint that had somehow ended up tangled within her golden locks.

Her eyes widened and she looked absolutely mortified, turning a darker shade of red.

"There ya go." Bruce chuckled, flicking the piece of lint away. He turned to find Harry in the corner of the shop, looking at some magical weaponry behind a glass case on display. "Harry, do I have a surprise for ya! The nice young lady here has told me that the tome ya wanted is discounted."

Harry came over, looking thrilled. He grinned at the clerk who was trying to gain back her composure. "Thank you so much, pretty miss!" Turning to Bruce, he was the picture of innocence as he said, "Can you get it please, Uncle?" Harry fluttered his eyelashes, even going as far as widening his eyes just a bit so that the emerald orbs looked like giant saucers.

"Absolutely! Can ya ring me up?" Bruster asked the clerk, displaying a grateful smile and hugging Harry to his side as if he was straggly toddler. For good measure, Bruster kneeled beside Harry and made of show of licking his thumb and rubbing it against the bridge of Harry's nose. Harry hid a glare as Bruster grinned mischievously.

With barely suppressed swooning, the clerk observed the adorable sight and managed to make it behind the counter without stumbling or tripping over her own limbs. After another melting gaze from Bruce as he stood and smiled back at her, she flushed of color, and then strode quickly towards the ancient cash register.

She was fiddling with the buttons, trying to make the transaction but pressing so many wrong ones in her nervousness that she had to cancel it several times. The cash register sputtered and was making random 'dings' or harsh rings whenever it was cancelled. When the ancient register began to spout clouds of smoke and whine, she hastily gave up and handed Bruster the tome, sputtering. "Just t-take it!!! Free, just for you!"

Bruster reached for the tome and Harry had to hold in a laugh when the clerk whimpered again when Bruce brushed against her hand. "Are ya sure about this? This is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for us."

She smiled, looking faint. "Very sure..."

Bruce smiled at her, Harry joining him as he opened the door to leave with the tome in his arms. "I will never forget ya and yer kindness." He declared as he bore into her eyes.

The clerk looked like her main support was the counter she was leaning against, her expression dreamy.

Grinning, Bruster exited the shop, Harry following behind him with his nose crinkled, and they approached Remus.

"Ye did a mince work of that, Harry. Remus, he's a bloody natural, blew me mind away. His innocence was so fierce…I was thrown into a loop." Bruster grinned and used his wand to shrink the tome as small as the others in his pocket.

"Oh, yes, very pleasant skill indeed. Forget about school or education! We have a prime flirter!" Remus stated exaggeratedly, glaring daggers at Bruce.

Bruce put his hands up in defense and looked back at Harry with a smirk. "Whoa, I don't think he sounds happy. What d'ya think, Harry? Does Moony here need to loosen up?"

Harry smirked, walking alongside Bruster. "I sure think so. What's the harm in a little fun sometimes?"

"Spoken in true Siri--"

"HARRY!" Remus abruptly cut through Bruce's sentence in a voice just verging below a yell.

Startled, Harry turned around quickly, eyes wide. "What?!"

"Why don't you get some Florean Fortescue's ice cream over there?" Remus frantically pointed at a stand not to far away, almost shoving his charge in the same direction.

Harry looked over and saw a long line that was so ridiculous it wrapped around a noisy magical instrument's shop—three shops from the ice cream booth. Harry was about to object when he saw the look Remus shot his way. Instead he adopted a deep frown and walked towards the line, knowing that they were just going to talk about yet another thing he wasn't supposed to hear. It made him quite angry that Remus would think him so stupid that he would run along for some ice cream without a second though. As if he hadn't noticed that Remus had done something to his head when he had ruffled his hand through his hair! He bit his tongue to keep from screaming out his frustration. There it was again, the lies and deception that he was getting quickly fed up with. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long for Remus to figure out that he was getting ticked off.

Bruce watched Harry walk away. "Well there's no doubt that yer doing as I told ya. He's right furious with ya now. Maybe we won't even have to wait long before--"

"—I didn't tell him!" Remus blurted out, frightening a small clutch of teenage girls that had made the unfortunate mistake of sitting on a bench next to Remus. "Sorry," Remus apologized to the girls as they shot him wary looks and practically ran away in fear. Resisting a sigh to know that he still had the adept ability to scare children with his disheveled appearance even without them knowing about his condition, he turned back to his friend when he realized he had responded to the outbursts.

"Well that's quite obvious. So...nothing. Nothing at all about the self-proclaimed 'Marauders' or his own godfather?"

Remus cringed as Bruce stated the two. There was a growing pile of things he hadn't yet told Harry. "Is it bad?" He passed a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that he had yet to put a stop to, along with shoving his hands into his pockets.

Bruce chuckled. "If there's one thing lads his age hate…it's being treated like children. They're not stupid at that age, not at all. Yet, they lack the emotional maturity to be teenagers. Ya should actually be counting yer blessings. See the last few months as a vacation, for when ya settle down in the new house and Harry sees that everything is real and that he will have a home with ya, he is going to test ya and yer patience. The lad will do anything in his power to test his boundaries with ya. He's still uncertain if you will turn him out if he disappoints you and he will dislike feeling vulnerable when you start to be his caregiver."

Fixing the increasingly nervous sandy-haired man with a look, Bruce plowed ahead. "He told me last night that he just wanted you to be his friend because of all the tip-toeing ya've been doing around the lad," the rogue continued. "But Remus, the kid has got friends, and he needs ya to be his family, ya have to accept that as well. Show him the lengths that ya will go to in order to make him happy, and make sure that ya show that kid what love is worth. Merlin knows he needs it! Just remember, it's a very tricky time for a lad, especially if in a year yer looking at being shipped off to a boarding school. Add a couple lies into the mix and ya've made yerself a deadly concoction, wolf. The real question here is…why?"

"I wasn't prepared to talk about my past, Bruster, you knew that. But now that Sirius seems to have a chance, no, now that we have the Knights on our side, I suppose…I actually have no idea why!" Remus finished in an exasperated voice.

"Just tell him about Sirius. Yer complicating matters in yer own bloody head," Bruce said as he placed his cloak back on over his shoulders and clasped it.

Remus began to pace nervously, not noticing that the slow Diagon Alley crowd was keeping a good distance away and casting him with suspicious eyes. Remus, unfortunately, had forgotten to wear his new apparel in his never-ending worry for his ten-year-old charge, and had on a suit so badly worn and patched that he could have found a better pair in a sixth-hand robe shop--if such a thing existed. "What…what if this whole Sirius thing doesn't work out. What do I tell him? 'Oh, I almost got your godfather out and failed.' How is he supposed to feel in that situation?"

"Remus, relax! Do what ya want to do, but if it was up to me…I would have no lies hanging above me fam-….a relationship, especially at his stage in his life. I told ya to keep him frustrated about his powers, yer fairly free to tell him about anything else."

"What if I fail him…I don't think I'm ready for all this, Bruce! What if I make a horrible mistake that endangers Harry? It's becoming a very real possibility, especially with my illness! Let's see, I've never held a stable job, I've never even thought about a family, and I am not cut out for this at all."

Bruce slugged him in the arm. "Snap out of it, ye old wolf! You'll do fine. The wolf is not you, Remus Lupin. And as much as you would like to say otherwise, the real you is not ruled by the beast, that animal only has reign once a month. Sure, it makes you prone to illness and exhaustion, but you are a man, Remus, a good man at that. Plus, more than half the blokes in the world have fathered a child without knowing what in the world they've gotten themselves into. Hell, any parents in the world have trouble, damsels included. Raising younglings is one of the hardest things, one of the most important, and definitely the most rewarding things ya will ever do in yer life! Sure, ye'll make mistakes. But it's natural because he'll be making them too. Ye'll learn from each other, and in the end, all this worrying is going to destroy ya. Loosen up around him, trust him, and in time, everything will turn out just right."

Remus slumped up against the wall, taking a deep breath as he took in Bruce's words. It made him feel exceptionally better. Was he still terrified? Absolutely. But would he try his hardest to do the damn best he could without becoming as hysterical as a six-year-old girl again? Certainly, without hesitation, especially considering the strange looks he was currently getting in his direction from old haggard witches. "Thanks, Bruce."

"No problem, wolf," Bruce murmured before he sharpened his gaze and stared hard at the younger man. "And I have a bone to pick with you lot, concerning the boy."

"Really, and what is that? Is it about the part of keeping Harry frustrated with me to the point that he is forced to use his Elementals? Because I think I am performing wonderfully in that department." Remus said sarcastically.

"No, what I want to know has nothing to do with getting him frustrated. It's about keeping him informed so that he can survive without foolish fantasies… ye all do it to him without his knowledge."

"Do what exactly?" Remus raised an eyebrow at the rogue.

"To Harry," Bruce said, glancing around and making sure no stragglers were eavesdropping. "Ye put that charm over his scar, playing it off like yer just ruffling his hair. I saw ya do it right before ya let me greet the lad. He knew in that moment that I couldn't see it. Today, for instance, he connected the hair ruffling with his scar and yer deceit. I doubt that he's very happy at the moment. And Dumbledore does it to the lad as well."

"It's to protect him." Remus said, wondering why the rogue was even mentioning it and shoving his hands into his pockets. _Wait, he noticed it_, Remus thought. _No, he would have said something if he had._ He had thought it would be best if Harry was oblivious to the things that made him less than normal. He hadn't even given telling Harry a second thought since he had tried all those charms on the youth when he had first cut his hair. None of the glamour charms had worked, so he had tried a spell he had used when Bruce had left a permanent farewell on his forehead. The Eye Aversion Spell worked against the cursed scar; however, it easily wore off in erratic lengths. It had to be continuously applied and reinforced.

"Why don't ye let him know yer doing it? The lad isn't daft; you'd be surprised how intelligent younglings can be. If he hasn't figured it out that it's to hide his scar by now, he will find out eventually and there'd be hell to pay when he does."

"I'll take it into consideration but I'm not making any promises."

"That's all I ask. It's foolish to make him feel like no one is going to recognize him when ya can't put the charm on him every hour on the dot. If he doesn't see the danger he's in, then he is bound to do foolish things. Poor lad is being tricked to believe that his fame isn't even that bad. But ya and I both know that the lad is in danger." Bruce stated.

Remus sighed heavily. "Alright…"

"Now seriously, try to push Harry a bit more. I think he'll really crack by day's end with the way yer going about it!" Bruce patted him on the shoulder enthusiastically, relieved that the boy would be out of critical danger soon.

"That wasn't my intention. I just didn't want you bringing up Sirius and Harry finding out about how I haven't exactly told him," Remus admitted with a sigh as he shoved his hands deeper inside his pockets and his finger had the displeasure of meeting a slight tear in his brown trousers and enlarging it.

Sending the werewolf a frown and feeling like he needed to remind the younger man about the importance of the crucial stage in the boy's life, he said, "Let's just hope that his power connects at will with his core, the worst that can happen is to burn a whole into his core and kill the lad. But if we don't do it now, it's bound to either destroy him as his power flows uncontrolled or it could start to claim his mind. Harry must learn the control and his body must discover how to write a path for his elemental ability or the magic will build up with lack of exercise. Remember how James used to be near death when he did finally use his ability?

Nodding, Remus urged the other man to continue.

"That happened because he so feared the power that he didn't learn to blend it with his core and body, nor did he exercise use of it. Every time he tried, he risked destroying his magical reserves."

Shoving his hands even further into his pockets so that his knuckles were stiff and uncomfortable, Remus looked down at his shoes in a resigned manner, his eyes sad, "It's going to be hard to watch isn't?"

They both knew that there was no point in lying or keeping up false fronts. Harry could die if he didn't gain control and if they told him about his powers before he got some semblance of control over them, the boy could be so frightened that he refused all together. That denial, unlike his father's because James had only had one, could undoubtedly claim Harry's life.

"Yes, Remus, and there is still a part that is left unknown. Harry has all four, and just that might be too much for him because his Elementals weren't gradually awakened. They were pulled alive by necessity to keep the lad alive and now they're right under the surface, the power just beneath the skin and charging wildly." Bruce bore into Remus' eyes as the younger man nodded

"That means he could be in danger either way." Remus stated softly, watching as Harry reached the top of the line with an obvious scowl on his face. He was so small and thin that Remus wanted to hold him close and apologize for every hurt the boy had ever gone through. He wanted to fill those hardened emerald eyes up with the brightness of the innocence he had exhibited in Godric's Hollow as a baby. Remus wanted to take the pain from the youth and ease his dreams of his world falling apart because some dark wizard had ruined his life.

Most of all, he wanted Harry to eat his meals and asks for seconds without casting a few glances of uncertainty towards him as if he expected to be reprimanded. His heart ached every time a look of surprise brightened Harry's face whenever he was complimented or given something, as if he didn't think he deserved to be treated right. Despite all of the therapy Harry had been reluctantly going through, there were wounds that still oozed of hurt and damage, the same abuse that had taken Harry's childhood. For once, Remus wanted to be able to make a quick move and not have to watch Harry flinch or bite his lip in nervousness.

Bruce answered, "Yes," and turned to watch the werewolf as his thoughts wandered.

Inspecting Harry's scowl, Remus voiced, "Do you think he caught on to the fact that I really wanted to talk to you out of his hearing range?"

Bruster smiled knowingly, looking at the wondrous scowl gracing Harry's features and knowing that the youth still had the strength of self-preservation. "Answer me this…do dragons have teeth?"

"Yes…" Remus said furrowing his brow before it dawned on him. In no way was Harry that daft, the kid had probably caught onto it since he had first come to live with him. And with dread, he walked to meet Harry--who now held a large cone in his hands-- hoping that everything wouldn't just blow up in his face by day's end.

"What do you have there, Harry?" Remus asked the youth.

"I don't know. I thought I'd be funny to make the man think I was mute. Something had to be worth that line," Harry mumbled, shoving the cone into Remus' hand to make his point. Harry took on a sour expression, sick and tired with all the secrets in his life. He hated the fact that his relationship seemed so distant from Remus lately. It was like Remus was trying to keep even more from him and Harry was reaching his limit. Lately he had just wanted to spend time with the Weasleys, the only people in his life that were as clueless when it came to his powers and past as he was. To add to that, Dumbledore seemed more distant than ever and he hadn't been able to visit Hagrid in a while. Secretly, he'd been in a foul mood for days, brooding and only answering whenever necessary.

Remus glanced back at Bruce for help, at a lost on how to react to Harry's attitude. He had always been a more passive person, usually straying away from any conflicts.

Bruster merely grinned and snatched the ice cream from his hands, mouthing 'Of your own doing' and speeding up so that he was in front of Harry and Remus.

"Harry?" Remus said tentatively.

Furious with watching the two older men communicate, Harry snapped, "What?! Do I need to get some pudding or do you prefer that I get a ROCK FROM UNDER THAT TREE OVER THERE?!" he spat the words with an anger that was growing rapidly in his chest.

Stricken, Remus took an involuntary step back, wanting to wipe the smile Bruce was wearing clean from his face. "Harry..." he muttered, as the color fled from his face.

Harry was glaring with intensity now, but his eyes were empty and hard, arms fisted and shaking with fear, pain, and anger. He was so angry and so sick of having everything hidden from him, he was not invisible, and he was worth of attention despite the fact that he had only ever known neglect at the hand of his relatives. The waves of pain and the hurt washed over him…and he was so tired of being hurt…of being alone. Exhausted really, like he knew he could take no more rejection and he was terrified that Remus was going to abandon him like so many adults in his life before. "JUST DON'T HURT ME!!!" he screamed without thinking, confused and distraught that Remus would belittle him by lying.

He was not the little boy that had hoped in his cupboard as he staved off starvation in the dark that someone _would _care if he died. The Harry Potter that had sat in his cupboard and had dreamt of being saved, that had yearned to be touched…to be hugged and…loved was no longer that naive. No longer would he hope just to be disappointed, he wasn't sure he could take it a single grain more of it. For so long he had been alone, been able to fend for himself, and then Remus and so many friends were entering his life so fast that he would sometimes just sit up at night and wait for it all to be a cruel dream of what could never be. He was so sick and tired of being lied to about himself. The Dursleys had said he was a freak, and now he didn't know what he was. Why could he do what others couldn't when all he had ever wanted was to be normal and whole?

But as he looked into Remus' shocked expression, he caught himself. Harry stiffened immediately, his emerald eyes growing wide, sickened with himself for losing control with the one person willing to take him in. How could Remus not hate him now? He could have kept that to himself like always, why couldn't he just bite his tongue and bear it? He would much rather be hurt than to see the kind man in front of him be pained by his words. That's why he no longer wanted to go to Mind Healer Watson, he had to bury it, and he could not allow Remus to see how weak he was.

Remus blanched as if he had been struck in the face. He made a step towards the boy to rectify the situation but moved too quickly in his haste to make things better, making Harry flinch violently.

Panicking, Harry's eyes widened and he started to run, much like he had on his first visit to Diagon Alley.

"HARRY! WAIT!" With Bruce at his heels, Remus sprinted into the crowds as Harry swerved through it with ease. For a terrifying second, Remus lost sight of him. "HARRY! PLEASE DON"T DO THIS TO ME!" The werewolf was scared out of his mind that his charge was now in danger.

"This way, Remus!" Bruce steered him in the direction of the mouth of Knockturn Alley.

Harry bounced of something solid and fell, flat on his back. A cane came up to his neck and Harry looked up with a sense of panic rising to his frenzied nerves. "I'm sorry, sir." The man in question had long, almost white hair, a pristinely pressed and highly decorated velvet wizard's robe and a pointed pale face. His eyes were light-grey holes, inflamed into anger.

"What is the meaning of this, you insolent boy?!" he spat with a sneer, obviously affronted that anyone would dare collide with him.

Confused, Harry's eyes widened, the weapon steadily planted right under his chin and his body still sprawled on the ground. The dirt on the stones of the Diagon Alley's pathway soiled his Muggle attire: a green long-sleeved polo shirt under his prized Weasley jumper and straight-cut jeans. The man had a dangerous coldness to him that was unlike his uncle's hot burning, obvious hatred. It was haughty and egotistical; his stare was piercing and calculative from the fathomless icy eyes to his severely curled lip. Resisting a shudder, Harry opened his mouth to speak only to have a voice that flooded his system with relief interrupt him.

Finally reaching their charge, Bruce looked upon the vestige of a lone Lucius Malfoy with his black, silver-handled cane, jabbing the small ten-year-old in the throat. "MALFOY!!!" he snarled viciously, causing Harry to flinch as the cane was pressed down deeper into his throat. Malfoy lifted his head, his long white-blonde mane obscuring the side of his face and hiding his barely suppressed surprise.

With a look of utter hate, Bruce's wand was sharply pointed at Malfoy's heart and his eyes were angry and so dark they looked like bottomless pits with mere wisps of the familiar violet. "GET THAT CANE OUT OF HIS FACE OR I"LL PERSONALLY STICK IT UP YOUR AR--"

"That's enough, Bruce." Remus admonished, knowing that a heated confrontation would only alert the malicious family-head to Harry's presence--something that they could not afford while the boy was largely unprotected. He frantically lifted Harry up to his feet, dusting his clothes off. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He bore into eyes so hard that Harry averted his own; knowing that he didn't deserve to get asked that question. It had been he who had run away and hurt his own guardian in the process—he was just a big disappointment, no one could change his mind about that, not even Mind Healer Watson. If he hadn't been a burden, he wouldn't have had to go to her in the first place.

When Lucius Malfoy lowered the cane and went for his wand, Bruce advanced him, his wand straight and his muscular arms steady. Not wanting to lose face, Malfoy settled on a sneer but didn't proceed to pull out the magical instrument.

Harry swallowed the bile that threatened to rise, feeling sick over what he had said to his guardian. "Yes, I'm fine, Remus," he said quietly, not daring to meet Lupin's worried eyes and settling on a face blank of expression

Harry's apology snapped the attention of the eldest Malfoy to the werewolf and the man asked coldly, "Remus Lupin isn't it?" Lucius' lip curled in disgust. "The appeal to get the criminal out of Azkaban was pitched by the likes of you?" His icy eyes narrowed and his chin lifted, giving him the appearance of someone how had just been offended by the sight of a ripe smelly rubbish bin.

Remus didn't dignify the man with an answer, anger building up in his chest as he thought about he had so easily condemned Sirius to death. He placed a protective hand on Harry's shoulder, causing the boy to stiffen.

Bruce met the blonde's eyes, his face twisted into the same sneer that the man was sending towards Remus. "What is it, Malfoy? We're ya afraid that yer wife's cousin would compromise yer status as a filthy dark bastard?" he spat, dragging the attention away from his younger friend.

Eyes lighting into icy fire pits, Lucius said in an oily voice, "Do I know you? Obviously not bred from a decent bloodline," a supercilious tone was woven thickly into his words. "That much is obvious by your association with men at the bottom," he cast a withering eye on Remus who kept an impassive expression. "Yet, there is a certain amount of recognition that your presence provokes. Those eyes seem familiar, beast."

The rogue didn't even rise to bait, he actually appeared pleased with being referred to in such a manner, a dangerous glint in his eyes shinning with something a kin to madness. "Let's leave it at 'we have met' _before_. And if ya were to compare our blood, ya filthy Death Eater, ya would find me mentioned so far in the beginning that it would take ya months to just trace upwards from where ya are. Of course in my book, any decent Muggles or beings are all directly above your kin."

"My…my, the accusations fly. I supposed no one has cautioned you against speaking to your betters in such a deficient form." Malfoy's eyed flitted across the Alleys as if searching for something.

Enjoying seeing the man restrain himself from pulling out his wand in front of an audience, Bruce stated "I'll tell you when I contact my betters, not the scum not fit to even reside on the scuffs on Remus' shoes."

Ignoring the comment, Malfoy sneered, "Who is this child?" regarding the two men with a mixture of distaste and suspicion.

Harry glared as the man took in his appearance with a creepy expression, Remus placing his body in front of his and keeping his other hand on Harry's chest in a protective stance.

The sandy-haired wizard schooled his features into a look of polite disdain before glancing around and settling on Bruce. "My friend's son, Lucius. Not that it would be any of your concern. If I had known that it was not possible to keep your nose out of my business, I would have informed you immediately about my friend's visit from Ireland.

Bruce took a sharp intake of air and his eyes flared, hurt and furious that Remus would dare say that. He was shaking and still managed to calm down enough to grab Harry and place him behind him, knowing full well that Harry's safety could be compromised., that would not do; he was not to have the responsibility of protector again, not after he had failed so horribly before. Had there not been any other relations that the wolf could have used?

"Very well…make sure you keep that runt away from me. Perhaps you will teach him some…_manners_," Lucius said coldly, turning his nose up in the air.

With overflowing pride and vanity, Malfoy walked away in a lazy stride, his head so far up that Harry wondered if the detestable man ever got light-headed.

Bruce made a motion with his leg as if he wanted nothing more than to shove it into his target. His muscles tensed and he had the overwhelming urge to hit something. He settled on lodging his fist into a steel light fixture, denting the metal before he repaired it with his wand. Harry watched as the rogue poured several vials of potion down his throat before Remus broke the unsettling silence.

"Let's go." Wanting to get as far as far as possible, Remus led the way to a restaurant hidden in an alcove of Diagon Alley, where they would meet Harry's new classmate. They had no delusions about unnecessary precautions; Harry Potter was in danger and it would not bode well for anyone to know where they lived, especially if Dumbledore had been carefully set apart from the equation in regards to the green-eyed wizard's schooling, for the mere reason that Bruster had said that it wasn't much of his business unless he asked.

It was in an uneasy silence that a stony-faced and pallid Harry had taken to gazing at his shoes. Bruce's expression was blank and steely, his jaw tightly wound as Remus led the way with a calm continence.

Harry finally conjured up the nerve to talk to Bruce, not being able to look at Remus in the eyes to risk seeing the damage his disobedience had caused. "Who was that man?"

"Lucius Malfoy. He is a rich bast--" Bruce paused to changes his wording when Remus glared at him for foul language, "_wizard_ who thinks that he is above everyone else because he has a vault overflowing with old galleons. The man hasn't worked a day in his life, except to corrupt politicians and to bribe his way in the Ministry. He is well connected and he was a supporter of Voldemort. Harry, he is a threat and a danger to ya. If ya ever find yerself in a situation with him, don't ever trust him. He is a bad egg."

"I understand, sir." Harry said quietly. "I didn't like him very much."

"That's quite understandable, Harry," Remus tried in a hopeful tone, wanting Harry to look up. He knew they needed to talk but there was no way to contact the family they were to meet and reschedule. They had to go to the restaurant and try to hold out until they were alone again. And meeting Lucius Malfoy, the worst of the Death Eaters, had unnerved him. Malfoy was not one to like being kept in the dark; his interest had been provoked with the sight of Harry. He would have to confine Harry indoors for a while.

Harry blinked but didn't look up or give any other indication that he had heard his werewolf guardian.

It hurt Remus terribly and he had to look away. Bruce was flanking Harry behind him and Remus easily took in the front, keeping his senses alert to any suspicious movements around them. He saw a quick blur of robes from the corner of his eye and asked from the corner of his mouth, "Invisibles…are they here today, Bruce?"

"No, nowhere in the vicinity, anyway I would know."

Tension spread to Remus' shoulders, his mind doubling its efforts to watch out for danger.

"What are inv-"the sentence had slipped out before Harry could help himself. He was instantly cut off by Remus.

"Not now, Harry!" Remus tried to take all the edge out of the words but he knew he hadn't succeeded when Harry's face fell—if possible--even more. Remus' anxiousness had completely dissembled his usually collected self.

"Do you think he sent his dogs on us?" Bruce asked quietly.

"I don't know how he couldn't. Dumbledore says he was always very curious as to where they were keeping Harry Potter. I think he had some idea to adopt him himself, all request denied of course."

"Sick bastard…trying to corrupt the Potter heir to be his own personal tool. Bloody criminal should have been rotting in Azkaban already."

"Can't say I don't agree with that diatribe." Remus commented as he saw a man with a copy of the Daily Prophet covering his face as he leaned against a wall. "He works fast, must give him credit for that."

"Nah…probably doing some dealings down Knockturn and went back to pay some new friends to spy for him. I could probably convince them to find a more suitable pastime later, once we find out how many he's got." Bruce mentioned nonchalantly, not looking the least bit worried.

Harry desperately wanted to find out more about the situation. Why would they be followed? And that man had wanted to adopt him? The youth shuddered and nervously glanced around, on the look out as well.

They were half-way to the restaurant when Remus turned and glanced up at his scar. "It's fading, Bruce."

"I know…" For some reason they both sounded very worried. "Lad, bow your head and look down at you toes."

Unconsciously, Harry's hand almost made it up to grab his scar before Remus said, "Don't!" sharply. "Not here, Harry. We will likely speak of this much later."

There was nothing much to say to do that so Harry sighed and kept his head down, reminded of times he would have had to do for similar reasons back in Surrey. It hurt to do it again…especially when it was Remus that was telling him to. A part of him was getting quite angry, while mostly he just wanted to run again. He resigned himself to stay where he was, just his head collided with a hard body and he met dark eyes as black as coal and a kind smile.

**TBC……REVIEW PLEASE! Por favor! **


	12. Protection

**Summary of series so far: **A nine-year old Harry is abused and neglected and then almost loses his life at Privet Drive. Arthur Weasley saves his life, stunned by a hidden power that the boy awakened within himself. Harry meets Dumbledore, and having no other choice, convinces a torn Remus Lupin to care of a severely traumatized youth. In a journey of breakthroughs and set backs, this is no fluffy tale of a wolf and a cub. Remus battles his impulse to push people away, as well as his hatred for himself. Harry deals with his issues of self detest, making friends and trying to comprehend that not everyone will hurt him, what love is and that the naive idea that his parents would come down and save him is not it's all cracked up to be. He doesn't want to be hurt and fears being abandoned. For help, Remus calls an old friend who has his healthy serving of emotional issues but who he thinks can help him. They discover that Harry, like James and a handful of others, have Elemental abilities. Furthermore, because Harry almost died, all his Elemental powers were awakened at once, a dangerous and potentially lethal issue. The power within him was not meant to be awakened until magical maturity, putting Harry's frail body and mental faculties to the fiercest test, while making control nearly impossible to grasp. What's up next? 

**A/N: Well...it's out...please review. Thank you Decimare and kyubbi-Sama for being the all two people who reviewed last chapter. I dedicate this chapter to you both for changing my mind and making me continue to post on this site. Please enjoy, read, and Review...I would really appreciate it. **

**Disclaimer: Sigh.._.I wish._**

**Chapter: Protection**

"Harry, stay with us

"Harry, stay with us! Focus your breathing, concentrate on the flow of the energy and focus it. Make your lungs work, Harry…_Please_!" Chestnut hair fell over frantic warm eyes and pleads filled the charred and torn walls of Remus Lupin's crumbling flat.

In a cluttered room full of dusty tomes and a scarcely used door, rays of moonlight caressed a boy who was struggling to live. With the falling of the sun, the return from Diagon Alley had resulted in the collapse of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Warding and containing the energy, Bruce Lorcan was turning red as he swung his wand in rapid, precise motions, making a blinding blue containment orb expand and surround the apartment. "CONTINUO, ABSCENDICIO, FORTIS, VALIMUS, FORMUS, CONTNUO, ABSCENDICIO!" the rogue chanted. It was warding the power inside the flat and keeping the building from collapsing. His exquisite wand was moving so fast that it looked like a blur, a ball of shinning brightness, as if he was containing the stars and the novas at once. His eyes, bright purple and pupils dilated, seemed unfocused and hard, dripping with power that could strip bones. Sweat drenched his chest as he continued to chant words Harry had never heard. 

Harry's breath went away and he shook violently, Remus holding him down, brushing his hair away. Their faces were staring at him and urging him to listen to the words being spoken… 

_**Earlier that day…**_

They were half-way to the restaurant when Remus turned and glanced up at his scar. "It's fading, Bruce."

"I know…" For some reason they both sounded very worried and it made Harry's uneasiness increase. 

"Lad, bow yer head and look down at yer toes," Bruce commanded quickly, placing a strong tattooed hand on his shoulder.

Unconsciously, Harry's hand almost made it up to grab his scar before Remus said, "Don't!" sharply. "Not here, Harry. We will likely speak of this much later."

There was nothing much to say to do that so Harry sighed and kept his head down, reminded of times he would have had to do it for similar reasons back in Surrey. It hurt to do it again…especially when it was Remus that was telling him to. A part of him was getting quite angry, while mostly he just wanted to run again. He resigned himself to stay where he was, just as his head collided with a hard body and he met dark eyes as black as coal and a kind smile.

Remus gently pulled him away and he was forced to turn his back to the person he had collided with, his guardian's fingers grazing over his scar as a funny feeling passed through his head and the hand ruffled his locks. 

Ten minutes later, an excited ushering to the dinning area that disrupted any intentions to actually introduce anyone, and quite a few unsettling stares later, found Harry feeling more down than ever and sitting in a lavishly decorated restaurant with white clothed tables, gleaming candelabrums, and bustling tuxedo clad waiters. They had entered the** _La__ Bijou Coupe_,** a French gourmet wizarding restaurant on the outskirts of Diagon Alley with strictly wizarding clientele, heavily warded dining areas that separated diners with Blurring and Silencing charms that the waiters and specifically assigned parties could key into, and by the looks of it, they had been led to a private corner that hadn't seemed to have been there until Antonin, a rather heavy-set, red-cheeked greeter had enthusiastically pointed them in the direction. And the wards Harry knew were on it, he had only figured out because a golden plaque proudly labeled the lengths the restaurant would go to in order to receive it's Five Wands for the tenth year in running, as declared by a crystal-framed article of _The Daily Prophet_ that hung on the wall to his side.

The man Harry had bumped into was currently sitting across from Bruce, his wife clutching his shoulder and a boy perched in the chair between them. A warm kind voice came away from a face of harsh lines and dark peeling eyes as the man introduced himself. "My name is Robert Macbethar Kippling. This is my wife, Ladean, and my son, Ervin." 

Ervy peered over at Harry, bags under his small gray eyes. A note of tight recognition was exchanged between both boys but neither said a word, nor did Mr. Kippling mention their accidental meeting at The Burrow. The younger boy held on to the tail of his father's long coat almost shyly, his body looking so small and frail and his face paler than Harry had ever seen it. Ladean had on a wool-blend toggle coat on, her brunette hair pooling around her poised shoulders and her sharp eyes scanning the three of them before they settled on Remus. 

The werewolf held her gaze, cool and collected.

Robert Kippling placed his lean torso in front of his son protectively and looked over at his wife with a tired expression. He turned back towards Bruce with a hint of uncertainly, setting his dark eyes on the rogue as if silently asking for assistance to break the collecting tension.

The violet-eyed man observed the Kippling family before he turned his head towards Remus with a broad smile that seemed to set the whole table into relief. "This is Remus Lupin, my teaching partner; this one here is Harold Pellings, yer son's new classmate."

Moving in front of Harry, though not enough to be actually up and standing, Remus looked over at Ladean Kippling, her previous attitude from their brief debacle over Christmas weighing heavily on his mind.

The air was thick with uneasiness once again and it was the kind-faced Mr. Kippling who broke the awkward silence. "Well…coincidences sure do have my curiosity peaked. I am a trusting man so I am willing to write it all up to chance and start on a clean slate?" He laid his dark eyes on Remus and directed his question at the werewolf, who continued to stare down at Ladean. 

She in turn set her eyes of silver slivers on her husband before she cleared her throat. She spoke in an even, dignified tone; yet, it sounded apologetic without being overly submissive. "Mr. Lupin, I apologize for my rudeness over our one meeting. But we must take into account the fact that I had just lost my small son in the middle of Christmas London, I was late for a gathering, and I felt overly stressed. It so happens that my anger was misplaced upon you, as I assumed quite wrongly, that you were some sort of Muggle child kidnapper. We can't be too sure these days, and I suppose I wrongfully connected your appearance with a criminals'," she softened the rude insult by adding, "considering of course that you look nothing like Mr. Pellings there when I observed the two of you together."

"Well, that's comforting," Remus said humorlessly as Bruce smirked briefly before steeling his features again. Harry continued to look at Ervin with interest while Remus gave a sigh of frustration. "I accept your apology, and I do hope that we can start off new, as I will be teaching your son this coming year." His tone was reserved, though he maintained a polite front. 

Ladean nodded her head and shook his hand over the basket of rolls that their overly enthusiastic waiter had placed there. 

Apparently, it hadn't been the Kipplings idea to dine there at all; they had been invited by Bruce. It seemed as if the restaurant knew him, and that he hadn't been there for years, though no one had nerve enough to ask why his name had been put at the top of the list of reservations immediately upon his entrance, or why the manager and chef had personally come out just to shake his hand, carting by a whole line of hungry customers wearing dressing robes who had been waiting for at least an hour. 

And then there was the reason one of the finest and most expensive bottles of wine had been opened without Bruce even having to ask. The rogue had insisted to them all that they could have whatever they wished. Noting from the fact that a simply glance at the menu revealed platters as expensive as fifty whole galleons, that was rather pricey to anyone, let alone someone who was dressed in leather and an old cloak. And the waiters were friendly, but it was clear that they were only by professional means; as if once upon a time Bruster had been a fine regular.

If anything, Bruce seemed tense and uncomfortable; a change in him that Harry knew even Remus had sensed. Not even the Kipplings had asked why his status was so high for a free lancing tutor, though Harry admitted it would be bad form to interrogate a stranger on just the first meeting. 

It was strange, bizarre…unsettling. Especially for Harry, who was past his emotional capacity for the day and now felt out of place in the new environment; never having been to an eating establishment such as this one before. 

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Harry was noticeably quieter than usual, Remus noted while watching the boy shuffle around his food. He tuned back into the conversation when Bruce asked him about his Fillet Mignon.

"It's very well done, with its rich savoury tones. Fine indeed, Bruce." Trying to sound enthusiastic and happy was a harder job than Remus had ever previously imagined. 

Bruce smiled. It didn't even reach his violet eyes and his shoulders were tense. "I'm glad yer finding it up to par. I meself haven't come here in years."

"Really? They seem very friendly with you," Robert Macbethar commented as he cut his son's duck up to smaller pieces. The little boy was playing with the serviette in his lap, attempting to remake the design it had been folded into. 

Distracted, Bruce looked down at his plate as he spoke. "I used to come here a lot once. Then I stopped, but recently I found meself venturing to old haunts," he looked up, "and I've been gummin' for a decent steak for donkey years!"

Remus went back to his peas after Ladean mentioned the privacy of the restaurant, and Bruce discussed the intricacy of the wards, as that was his specialty. 

For the most part, Harry didn't interact with the Kipplings, as he was sitting the furthest away from them possible, and was hunched unmoving in the chair. The young boy didn't fidget or wring his hands, gaze fixed on the table.

It was as if he thought his presence was unwanted and that someone would lash out at him is he so much as breathed loudly. And near the end of the polite, yet mostly quite main entree, out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Harry grab his serviette and sneak it onto his lap, putting the remainder of his chips and folding it. Remus shuddered and shut his eyes. 

The kid thought that he was going to either be starved or abandoned all together and was hoarding food _again_. He gently stopped Harry's shaking hands and whispered, "No one would ever do that to you ever again, Harry. Why don't you just leave it on your plate for the waiter to take care of?"

Not meeting Lupin's eyes, Harry nodded and placed the full serviette on his plate while biting his lower lip. 

"We'll just talk later, alright? You're not in trouble. If anything…it's entirely my fault."

"Sorry, sir," Harry said quietly.

_If only you knew how much it hurts when it all comes back to formalities between us. "_There's no need for that," he continued on gently, "I'm the one who should apologize, but let's leave that for later, when we won't have guest."

"Okay." Harry still kept his eyes trained on his lap and Remus was shocked to realize that the youth was digging his nails into his thighs.

He very carefully grabbed Harry's hand and rubbed the small palm with his thumb, hoping to relax the tense boy and to stop his self-harming actions. "Remember, we agreed you wouldn't do that anymore," Remus spoke quietly.

Never in his life had Remus ever consciously been aware of making physical contact with anyone. As a werewolf, he had always been treated with caution. No one wanted a beast anywhere need them. But he and Irene Watson, Harry's Mind Healer, had agreed Harry's need for it. For so long Harry had connected any touch with harm to his person and a danger to his well-being. They were introducing the new concept of touch and its association to the positive. Remus was making a grand effort and the poor boy craved such attentions so much that he leaned into them with desperation. It was enough to twist his heart into knots, seeing the extent of the damage done to Harry.

Red faced with shame, Harry nodded and squeezed, resisting the urge to shut his eyes or run. "Sorry," he mumbled softly.

"None of that. I'll just chuck out reminders when their due; no hassles." He sent a smirk that seemed pathetic to even him.

Harry seemed to think so as well because he bowed his head with even more shame and grabbed his hand back, clasping it with his other one in his lap and sending his guardian a wary glance. 

Remus was unable to move, paralyzed by the dimming of the life in Harry's eyes. The boy was afraid of being hurt again, just as much as he was terrified that _he_ had caused the rift in their relationship; that _he_ was a burden. Excusing himself for the loo, Remus pushed open the lacquered door and bowed over the sink as he gripped at both sides, his chest constricting painfully. 

How could things have gone so wrong? That he would permit himself to distance himself from Harry despite his conviction that he would be there for the child; it was disheartening that he could not resolve his issues so that he could keep from hurting Harry further. A lifetime of pain was enough without his new guardian adding to his dilemmas. 

Minutes after Remus had left, Bruce placed a hand on Harry's shoulder reassuring him with a friendly smile that he was just going off to the loo. Harry looked terrified for a moment before his face became the blank mask he had learned to wear, his eyes just as blank and hollow as he nodded. 

"Monsieur, watch the lad and speak to him about something exciting. Make sure to entertain the table and try not to focus so much on the boy." Bruce had waved the manager over, grabbing his shoulder and slipping a good amount of galleons into the man's hand discreetly. 

"But of course, Monsieur Lorcan, yuz shalz not be disappointed."

"No, I do believe I won't." He held the waiter's gaze and nodded, leaving his old acquaintance, Pierre-Louis Lefèvreto, to take a red bottle of vintage _Petrus_. One of the finest and most expensive Muggle brands in France, the man would inform his party, as he dished out the history and explained the roasted tarry oak flavors of the wine. 

Without further ado, the violet-eyed man continued to the loo with one last glance at the raven-haired boy who was staring dejectedly at the table as Pierre-Louis held the Kippling's undivided attention. Making sure to have his foot disallow the door to close that he could watch Harry from the corner of his eye for a second longer, he let it slam shut before he grabbed Remus by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall with one hand.

"How dare ya, Remus. After this morning...how could ya say that in me face?" Bruce's voice was cold and 

Remus immediately felt his guilt double. 

Glaring, the violet-eyed man continued, "And I do hope, for the boy's sake, that ya have a worthy plan to set it right. I've never seen a child act so detached and meek in me entire bloody life!" Bruce looked like he was restraining from saying more harsh words when he bit out, "Fix it, I will not watch a child harm himself again!"

"What would you have me do? Perhaps he would be better off somewhere else after all…" Remus said quietly, bowing his head.

Bruster, who had released him, slammed him back into the wall. "Listen here, you fecking eejit, he needs _you._ And if ya abandon him now, I fear it will leave nothing of him left. So ya try yer damn hardest and ya let _him_ make that choice. Fight for him, don't ya dare push him away, or so help me I will sacrifice me very life to make ya feel every fiber of pain that boy has gone through." He glared with his mouth twisted and his eyes dark. "At least have some modicum of respect for yerself. Before ya would have had me in a loose headlock if I got out of line and had ya pinned _pathetically_ against the wall..."he spat.

Slowly bringing his companion's arm out of the way, Remus pushed off the wall and stood in the middle of the loo. "Truth is that I don't truly feel that you are out of line. I don't know how to fight myself in pushing those close to me away. And I _would_ have deserved to feel all of it: every strike, every foul word, and every single break. I would have deserved to feel it after leaving him forgotten like I did." The werewolf's eyes were so full of anguish and sorrow. 

"Spare me the pity party," the older wizard growled. "Do ya count me a bloody moron, Remus! Ya NEVER for one second forgot that boy, so don't even try to fool me, ya bloody coward. Did ya think we were just buzzies off for a dander in the countryside? Ya had a purpose then; and ya helped us and yerself more than yer willing to admit. "

"I could have helped _him_…" Remus forced out insistently.

Bruce released a heavy sigh, his voice taking on the hushed tones of a saddened whisper, "Ya could have done a very many things, werewolf. But there's no use in wallowing in that and refusing to live. I may not be able to read him, but he can't be the ignorant wee lad ya want him to be, Remus. It's much too late to pretend that fer ten years he didn't have to fend fer himself and live through that hell. Ya can't keep him in the dark or try to protect him because he doesn't understand that sparing him from pain and hurt shouldn't be his job alone. So, if ya try to push him to be a little boy who runs and plays, forgets that he has scars that will always mare his skin, and that he shouldn't have t 'know that even here we can't truly guarantee his safety, ya will lose him, Remus."

"Should I tell him everything; about his parents, where they're buried, why no one as much as came to his aid or bought him a present in his life, and admit that I am distancing myself because I have no idea what I'm doing. Because I am scared out of my wits!"

"Yes. Ya let him fully into yer life; help him to understand that even if ya can't take the hurt away, ya will always be there for him. And then ya let him go to make his own decision, let him chose what he thinks is best for himself for once in his life. Trust him to return to ya and everything else will come after."

"He's only ten…"Remus started.

"No. He is a ten-year-old neglected lad who only knows to hide away within himself and to find his own solutions to his problems, while being terrified of being alone once ya have given him a taste of how great life has a potential of being."

Remus swept a trembling hand through his hair, eyes downcast. "I just can't get the image out of my mind of a happy baby boy giggling because his father was tossing him in the air or his mother was singing. It's so wrong that he doesn't even remember that type of love."

"You lost the baby ya knew at Godric's Hollow the day that he was left with his relations. Harry might always suffer some effects from that, but as long as he has somebody there to love him…he will be alright. In time you'll see that a good start, the year that he was allowed to have with his parents, may have steered him to be that good-natured tyke sitting out there."

After a resigned sigh, Remus grabbed Bruce's forearm and directed his eyes upwards. "Bruce…with Malfoy… I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for earlier. What I did was again unthinkable."

Bruce shifted off to the side. "I know that, Remus. Just don't ever say those words around me, do ya understand? I'm not fit for such a title and I will NOT be that lad's guardian. That's yer job, Remus. It's hard enough as it is."

The younger wizard dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I wasn't thinking properly." 

"I…just don't repeat such things…those words…," the rogue continued brokenly, "my heart can't tolerate so much when me eyes and dreams already betray me." There was something pleading within the shadow in Bruce's eyes. 

Remus had to turn away, taking a step towards the door. "Let's go back. I don't want to leave Harry alone. Where did you say you met them?"

Bruce turned away, putting his hands under the running tap and splashing cool water over is face. "When I was in Ireland, right before I left to meet ya, there was a woman who happened to be asking around the square for a tutor, asking the vendors if they knew of any." Violet eyes darted away from the mirror and settled on the swirling water. "Naturally, I offered and she accepted right before I spotted ya near those toy stands. It was a spur of the moment type of thing I suppose. I just knew of yer state those months ago and I had every intention of setting your ruddy arse straight when ya contacted me."

Remus stopped as Bruce seemed to pay careful attention to drying the runes on his cheek. "In Dublin? The same place you told me to meet you?"

The rogue met his friend's eyes in the mirror, his hands coming to rest on the sides of the sink. "Yes. Why?"

Taking a step away from the door, Remus stepped behind Bruce, folding his arms. "You don't find it the slightest bit suspicious?"

Shrugging, Bruce dried the rest of his face. "No. Not really. But I will take all the necessary safety precautions."

Frowning, Remus asked, "Did you read them?"

"Pardon?" Bruce said with a puzzled expression.

"I'm asking if you used your ability."

The rogue's expression turned bitter. "Oh, yes, my a_bility_," he said with disgust, "try _unwanted_genetic mutation with resilience to Occlumency and one that makes the tint of my eyes an unnatural shade." He continued sarcasm, his voice clearly depicting his annoyance, "By all means, I should use that whenever I need it, since it is in direct correlation to my mana and bloody hell, just perfect to just barely have the ability to block… No, I don't willingly set out to invade people's privacy! But if I do find out that genetics have also given me the magical ability to be a metamorphmagus I'll be sure to use it to deceive _strangers_ as well," he declared scathingly, cheeks flushed in anger. "Don't be absurd!"

Remus' jaw tightened and he retorted in a tone that was much more forceful than his usual, "It was a simple question. I'm not asking you to break into their minds to find out what past time they most enjoy, Bruce. Just if you saw what type of people they are." 

The rogue looked down; expression coming back to normal now that it was off shaky ground. "No, but me people checked their backgrounds. They're clean business folk."

Not yet satisfied, but unwilling to back out of an arrangement especially with the scarcity of tutors for magical children, Remus warned, "I am going to keep a very close eye on them."

"Whatever you say, wolf. I already addressed the fact that we will retrieve the boy ourselves when they wanted to pitch the idea of sending Harry over. This way, they won't even have to know where the lad lives."

They were interrupted by the entrance of a rather tall and slender older man with curly blond hair tied with a bow to the back, who cast a glance at Bruce before claiming the sink next to his. 

The rogue turned to Remus and moved towards the stall. "I'll be back in a few, ya should go check on Harry. You know, make sure he's alright." 

Remus nodded briskly. "I was already on my way." He made to move to the door but before it closed shut he left a few inches open.

The werewolf could barely make out the voices. The stranger had a strong Welsh accent. 

"You didn't have to flirt with her! She's my daughter for Merlin's sake! She said you hashed a story about a snarky vampire running away with someone's wife…oh, you're so very clever…honestly, and she was not married…nor am I snarky!" he argued.

"How would she have remembered me enough to tell her father that a curious man had come to take the tome," Bruce reasoned calmly. 

Sliding his eye through the crack, Remus made sure to keep the double door separating the bathroom from the dinning hall locked with a simple charm. 

"Yeah, well she sure sounded like she would have either way," the man said in a sour tone as he grabbed a familiar tome that Bruce had just resized to its normal state. "And how you could know she has no idea about her own father's life is a bloody mystery."

"Lucky guess," Bruce added in casual tone. "I was going to check it just now if ya hadn't come in," Bruce admitted, sliding his fingers down the spine of the book till the cover glowed gold with a strange emblem that Remus couldn't quite decipher. To Remus' puzzlement, the tome transfigured into a golden chest, snapping open to reveal sheets of parchment and a strange glass object. The rogue shuffled through the parchments while the other man looked on, eyes darting away nervously. 

A low growl of anger was released from Bruster's throat as he threw the papers back and snapped the lid of the chest shut. "What the feck is this! There are over eight thousand locations on here without a certain measure of certainty for any."

"Apologies, Dux Custos, but that's the best Hendrick could do." 

"Any number of these can contain just a single dubious artifact and not what we're looking for," the rogue said angrily. "How the hell do ya expect me to do me job if I get no help from ye dunces!"

"There's no need to yell!" The older man scowled, brushing his cloak off with one hand. "I've been keeping my ears open for anything," he placated with a flush.

Not alleviated at all by the admission, Bruce commanded, "You tell Grendal to contact me tonight, no later, unless he wants me vacation to be cut as short as Herochi's ridiculous hair chop."

"Check back in a few days?" The bespectacled man winced as he asked.

"I am not enjoying our lack of bloody progress; I warned Grendal about placing me in this position before I left Ireland." Bruce looked like he was very close to fuming.

"It's not like you to be _this_ angry," muttered the man under his breath, annoyance floating into his tone. 

Deflating, Bruce exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he kept his head down. "I apologize if I'm a tad _off_. It…It's been a trying day for me, Lusker." He lifted his head, looking only exhausted and sleep deprived. "We need to fix the escalating situation before it all gets out of hand and someone gets hurt."

"Yes," the man sighed, "the news is most unfortunate. We must act soon if we hope to save him."

"I know." Fumbling through his moleskin pouch, Bruce retrieved a Calming Draught and gulped it down, his shaking ceasing immediately. "Leave now, and make sure that daughter of yers hasn't given away yer entire bookshop by now." Bruce's mirth was back, seriousness forgotten for lighter spirits.

"Oh, do shut up! I expect you to be ready to marry her within the hour…bloody almost had your way with her over the counter!" Lusker's voice had gone from anger to playful banter.

"Optimism doesn't suit ya, friend," the rogue said in all seriousness before he smirked.

"All's well, you're much too old for her anyway," the man quipped with a cheeky grin.

"I do recall ya have some decades on me. If I'm old, ya must be positively ancient." With a scrutinizing pause, the rogue bit back a laugh. "That fasted mop on your bald looks like curls of dyed cheese and the goatee is a good look if ya were striving to look like a fuzzy mouse died hanging off yer chin."

Glaring darkly, the blonde man snatched the chest back—which had already transfigured back into a tome—and added, "Fine! I admit defeat. My glamour charms are as atrocious as ever. Anyway! Daniel and mother send their greetings."

"Oh, great; another dribble on yer love life," the rogue rolled his eyes. "Is your mother done interfering? 

Grimacing, Lusker answered, "Not bloody likely, insufferable old witch that she is!"

"Tell yer mother that I miss her terribly."

"Oh, do shut up! She already considers you one of her own, give a bloke a chance to be a favorite for once."

Bruce smirked. "I still find it hard to believe that yer offspring retained none of yer little hungers."

"I'm barely a quarter vampire, Bruce. For goodness sakes, I barely even feel the sun go up, and my hungers are still for fine rare steaks."

"Ah, yes, but Susana, as ya said, is a vegetarian." Bruce chuckled and the man snorted.

"Don't remind me of my daughter's unnatural phases." He grumbled miserably. "Nearly died when she hid my meat for a solid week, 'so that I could stop the butchering of the _cute_creatures'. Honestly!"

Chuckling, Bruster padded the older man on the arm in a friendly gesture. "Sounds grand!"

The man responded with a smile. "We'd probably had to admit her to St. Mungos if we tell her of her ancestry. She would be devastated to learn that she comes from a line that offends her fragile sensibilities."

Bruce grinned back briefly before he asked, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Absolutely."

"We met up with Malfoy, he's sent us a couple of spies, take care of threat fer me. Call our pretty little acting leader if ya have to. Make sure it's in way that isn't suspicious; we can't afford the child to be influenced by negative forces."

The older man grinned, "she'd have your fingers on a platter if she ever got wind of that title. Can bloody well annihilate the lot of us…However, it's worth mentioning that we have heard the rumors--outlandish though they are--it is keeping most of those who would seek to get to him for their own selfish purposes at bay."

Nodding, the rogue said, "The ones about his power may prove to be true."

"Yes, but an infant You-Know-Who is brimming on ridiculous." 

"We will not speak of that monster!" Bruce growled in warning.

"We'll find them all…" the man gulped, eyes downcast, "before it's too late."

"I hope for the sake of humanity that the job be bloody well done by then," Bruce said, his jaw set. "Be sure leave the lines of communication open and have the Magister Dux keep some Invisibles on standby."

"To conceal a wizard…" Lusker smirked at the literal translation.

"The boy may just require the protections of the Knights of Venificus Latito."

"Farewell then, friend. I'll contact the necessaries then. We have a few recruits in comin' and last month has had all of us on edge…not a comfortable place to be when you have things to protect."

"Understood," Remus heard Bruce respond.

Quickly, Remus spelled _'Quietus'_ so that the door would shut silently and stepped back into the restaurant, checking on Harry, who was guiltily looking around while hiding a smoking napkin in his hand. He continued on to the table, sidestepping various booths and tables with various privacy charms in place, right before the rogue pushed open the door from the bathroom.

"Wine, Remus?" Ladean asked politely.

Remus nodded distractedly but had a very calculative expression as he watched the rogue exit the loo. The rogue also seemed to notice Harry's napkin and sighed for the outburst of elemental magic that had yet to be realized by the Kipplings. At least the Charms on the tables kept anyone else from finding out.

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At dusk, they exited the restaurant, the Kipplings leading and Harry sandwiched between Bruce and Remus, both men looking desperate to leave. Ervy was looking down at his shoes, gray eyes straying to his mother's hand bag dejectedly, as if waiting for something to happen. 

Something sunk to the pit of Harry's stomach and there was a tingling in the back of his neck. Wearily, he glanced down at him fingertips and brushed them across the hem of his shirt. The young wizard almost gasped at their sensitivity before he found himself angry—confused and hurt that he wasn't sure if he should let anyone know about it. To ask what was wrong with him was a question he didn't exactly want answered; there were so many things so very wrong with him—being the freak that he was. 

An excited voice broke through the silence of the leisurely stroll, breaking off the friendly conversation between Bruce and the little boy's parents, "Father, I can take it now!" Ervy jumped and fixed his eyes on his mother's glowing bag, like a strange alarm had gone off inside. They all stopped and Mr. Kippling seemed just as eager when his wife removed two vials of something lime and murky from her bag and handed them to her husband. 

Smiling apologetically at Bruce and Remus, Robert explained, "My son tends to need a few medications. We had to give him a potion this morning, although it made him better, it also works as a mild depressant. I'm sure he's more than eager to get back to his usual self with that potion's counter?" he asked his son, smiling and dark eyes glittering with warmth. There was obviously not going to be any further elaboration on the topic.

"You promised I would get a chance to make friends today. I hate this." Ervy argued through his teeth, glancing at Harry with awkward embarrassment and looking a lot like an eager seven-year-old who had been deprived of something that he wished to have. 

Ladean rubbed her son's neck in slow motions. "Just give him the potion, Robert. We know how he gets," she soothed, in her dry and languid tone, while Remus and Bruce feigned disinterest like adults usually did. 

Barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes at his tutors, Harry looked back to see small grey eyes flare with a life that had been extinguished just seconds before. It was strange but Harry couldn't find it within himself to be uneasy or to really care enough to add it to the rush of things already pressing into him. He could only describe it as being in his own safe cupboard, alone and scared, but safe from harm, just watching as everything played out around him in a disconnected way. The past few months seemed like a far off dream that he had just awakened from, and the weight in his chest increased, harsher than any physical pain, making him feel shrouded in the dark. 

What he couldn't see was that his face and eyes had gone completely blank, his mask flying into place as he started to talk to the little boy that he was going to be studying with. "Have you ever played Exploding Snap?" he asked, surprised to find that his voice sounded so normal while his body felt like it was anything but. 

More surprised by this was Remus, who glanced back with a worried expression that just made Harry feel angry. Harry stared blankly until his guardian sighed and resumed his conversation. '_Maybe it was all pretend_?' an inner voice in his head raised the question he was so scared of finding the answer to. 

Looking delighted to find Harry speaking to him, Ervy smiled and quickly answered, "All the time! It's fun isn't it, Harold? I like to play against father and my healer," reddening, must likely due to the fact that he had just revealed his sad lack of proper friends, he quickly changed the subject. "What kind of sweets do you like? Father said I can have some today." 

Harry managed a smile and fell into step with the seven-year-old, who grinned impishly and seemed to hop excitedly with every step. 

They were passing by Eeylop's Owl Emporium when it happened: a brown barn owl swooped out of the shop, rocketed into the air with an ear-splitting screech, and dove, full throttle, to the ground beside Harry. The young wizard, breathing hard and in a state of shock, watched the thing wreathe and disappear from the ground, no signs that it had ever existed. 

_That was you, you know. It's a good thing they didn't see you hurt it. You just made it disappear, murderer!"_ his inner voice cried. 

Harry violently shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, not realizing that Ervy was asking his father for something and that the Bruce and Remus had not noticed that he had stopped, thinking that he would still be next to his new friend. They continued to walk until the crowd closed in around them and Harry was left breathing harshly and very much alone. 

An oily, sinister voice came up from behind him. "And what's your name, little boy?" A dirty hand appeared on Harry's shoulder and the young wizard struggled to get away, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He was on his own once more. _Just like it should be... You don't need anyone do you?_

"Don't struggle, you little chit!" the voice snarled before it went back to sounding oily and barely controlled, "I'll help you get home if you tell me where you live."

"Randolph, I'm not certain any of that concerns you." A blond, curly haired man said behind him, grabbing the other wizard by the shoulder, a wand coming up to the small of his handler's back. The hand left Harry's shoulder and he was finally able to turn around before he sprinted into a run.

Bruce accosted him half way, holding on and speaking before Harry could manage to kick him in the shins. 

"Yer fine now, lad…he can't get ya now." Bruce said as Harry got control of his breathing. Remus was catching his breath and seemed oblivious to the amount of danger Harry had managed to get into just seconds after he was left alone.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Remus asked with his eyebrows knitted in concern and the ever present shadow of sadness encompassing his face.

'_He doesn't really care, idiot boy!' _Glaring, Harry responded, "I'm fine, sir." _'Good job, he really looks hurt. Now he definitely won't want to trick you into believing he wants you.' _The inner voice caused his heart to clench again and the tingling in his arms increased. 

"He's shaking," Ervy stated in a low voice as if he had meant it as a secret, looking at him strangely. "Sorry…I'm not really used to…_friends,_" he said the word as if it was foreign to his lips, "I didn't mean to forget you weren't walking with me," he apologized with his head down. The expression on the little boy's face was torn and despairing.

"It's fine, at least Harold wasn't hurt." Robert Kippling commented while turning a kind smile over to Harry as Ladean frowned slightly. 

"The laces of my trainers came undone, I kind of forgot…" -that you would care less if I got lost in a crowd forever, like the Dursleys would have gleefully done. Harry didn't finish that thought out loud.

There was a twitch in the rogue's neck and his eyes flashed towards the ground with anger as his hand roughly came up to rub at a spot behind his ear, the hair covering something that looked like a flash of gold before Harry was distracted by Remus coming up beside him. 

"You had me so worried, Harry." The young wizard grabbed Harry by the shoulder gently. 

'_LIAR!'_ the voice cried loudly. Harry stepped out of the touch without glancing up, his eyes darting around. He missed the hurt in his guardian's expression. '_Don't tell them you saw the owl; you hurt it and made it go away, you little freak .I'm surprised it didn't go up in flames, demon fiend.'_

Silver eyes met Harry's and Ladean asked tonelessly, "Are you alright, boy?"

"I'm fine," came the dubious reply. Hating the attention and uncomfortable, Harry rushed forward into the alley, tucking his scarred hands into his pocket, refusing to see the disgusting scars and feeling when the rest of them began to move after him. 

The young wizard heard Ervy speak worriedly behind him with the finesse of a screeching banshee, "What's wrong with him, father?"

"Don't worry, son. It's nothing to be concerned about. But we should head off home," he said as he gently grabbed his son's shoulder. 

Remus and Bruce had now flanked him on both sides and Harry felt his burning anger return. It seemed almost irrational to him, but he didn't like being caged in like a criminal by someone who was deceiving him and someone else who seemed to know what Harry would have liked to be informed about. He defiantly cruised back to be next to Ervy, who twisted away from his father's grip. 

Mr. Kippling frowned and repeated, "Ervy, no, we're leaving," causing all of them to stop next to the Cauldron Shop, and for several witches and wizards next to them to maneuver around them with glares. 

"I'm fine, Father, really. Can I go with Harold and play?" Ervy's little eyes were positively shinning with earnest. 

"Ervy, you didn't sleep well last night. I don't want you to over exert yourself." There was almost a desperate tone in his voice, a sad quality within the darkness of his onyx eyes. 

"Don't be silly, Robert. He just wants to get to know his little friend. Let the child have his fun." Ladean said.

"Come on, Harold. Let's go to the Apothecary. Can I call you Harry for short? It's easier that way."

"Sure." The green-eyed wizard said easily; his mask flying into place once more.

"No." 

It had been Remus who had spoken and Ladean and Robert didn't seem to have heard. Bruce grabbed the younger man's arm, shaking his head slightly while Harry glared at his guardian.

Ervy swept his eyes over them in an inquisitive stare and seemed to shrug it off as his face burst into an excited smile. "Call me Ervy." Turning towards his parents he asked, "Can I go with Harry to the Apothecary? I want to show him something." 

Robert smiled and addressed the two 'to be' tutors. "My apologies. I believe he always reverts to such a state when describing his passion. My son may be only seven, but he is quite adept at potions--specifically protective potions. He finds it fascinating and he's not much of an athlete, bless his heart, so Potions seems an acceptable outlet."

"Albeit unusual for one so young," Ladean commented, not unkindly.

Grinning, Ervy turned back to his parents. "You promised, Father. And I can get to know Harry before our lessons. That way you can still be there to watch over us." Eagerness showed clearly on his face as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Ladean nodded. "Go on, Ervin. Robert, Remus, you don't mind giving the children a bit of leisure time. I'm sure that your Harry would be fascinated with all the potions ingredients, no doubt our little Ervin would be pleased to explain them."

"In avid detail if I recall," Robert muttered.

It was decided to go; the smallest boy seemed far too eager to deny without being attacked with a touch of guilt. Remus smiled as they trailed after the children. He took out a new box that he had been carrying and opened a fresh bar of his favorite. His flat was in desperate need of a chocolate restocking. 

"Chocolate, Remus?" Robert inquired, smiling.

"I've got a voracious ten-year-old who loves the stuff. Quite fond of it myself." He grinned and was glad to see a small smile tug at Harry's lips, even if it was for the briefest of seconds, to be replaced with an inkling of something like betrayal. 

Remus felt like walking straight to Azkaban and turning himself in for ever thinking of distancing himself from Harry. The overwhelming guilt was twisting his stomach and causing him to feel physically ill. Chocolate had been his last ditch attempt to calm his nerves and his worries. It was not working in the slightest.

Robert Kippling interrupted his morose thoughts by speaking to Bruce. "Mr. Lorcan, may I ask who you petitioned to make your wardrobe?"

Looking away, Bruce responded evenly. "That, my friend, is a secret."

Undeterred, the dark-eyed man commented in awe. "It's extraordinary. So deeply woven, the magic is coming off into the air." He silently gestured for permission to touch the shimmering cloak and with a nod of assent from the rogue added, "Very rare to do such work with potions or simple spells."

"It is," the other wizard agreed, not adding any other details.

Little Ervy had turned around; making sure Harry was still at his side, before saying, "Father's a Weaver, makes his products fly off the shelves." His expression was one of pride and admiration. "I can't do it yet, not being able to have a wand, but Father's the best. His garments and robes are considered fit for a museum!" He continued on excitedly, walking backwards slowly, "You know that Muggle place that has paintings, and pictures, and anything from back in the past."

"Really?" Remus asked, keenly interested. 

"Natural talent of mine," Robert confessed, looking rather abashed. "I've got a feel for weaving the components of my products perfectly, wound in perfect harmony." He gracefully waved his hands, looking between them as if invisible strands of magic had appeared before him. "Not a fiber or figment of cloth or leather is left unattended to. I see yours has the same qualities." He smiled apologetically, sensing Bruster's discomfort. "I was merely curious."

"Yes, Robert is quite talented." Ladean continued. "Most spelled garments have a basic shell of protection. If penetrated at one point, the whole thing collapses. As a Weaver, magic is woven all around, making it nearly indestructible." She put her hand on her husband's shoulder, sharing a smile with him in an exchange that looked private, "I myself prefer to deal with the staff now and the modified potions we have created, top secret of course. He gets so caught up, he once forget to eat for a week. Almost missed Ervin's birth."

"I was making him a blanket, Ladean. You can't rush work for those you consider precious." He smiled down at his son and put a hand on his small son's shoulder. 

"We must protect what's important to us by all cost—by any means possible," Ladean worded carefully. 

"Too right," Bruce agreed. Remus remained silent, staring as Harry walked into the Apothecary with a suffering expression.

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The next incident, inside the Apothecary, occurred in the span of mere seconds. Ervy had stepped on a stool to reach the top shelves, the stool broke and sent the young boy to clutch at the shelves, which then broke off and had come tumbling down with all the glass bottles and potentially volatile potion ingredients. Harry, without a second thought, ran and grabbed Ervy just as the shelves went down, crouching with his back to the falling items and protecting his new friend with his body. Bottles broke, miniature explosions going off around him as his back was hit with glass shards and covered with unidentifiable substances.

"Ervy!" Robert Kippling ran to his son and extricated him from Harry's protective grip, swinging his son into his arms. Ladean approached behind her husband and set her eyes briefly on her son before looking down at Harry, mouth parted as if she was inconveniently puzzled, and making no move to help.

Remus and Bruce were shocked for a moment before they too ran to their young charge as the Apothecary attendant was panicking about a law suit and trying to mend the stool as if it would reverse time. 

"Harry! Are you alright?" Remus asked, paling. 

Groaning and hissing in pain, Harry remained in his crouch, crunching his eyes against the pain of shards embedded into his back. There were slight burns on the back of his leg where some Manicore hair had exploded. "I'm fine," he ground out through the pain, calmly trying to steady his breathing. His toleration for pain was well beyond most people, not even considering the fact that he was only a child. 

"You'll be okay. We'll get you help." The werewolf gulped and watched Bruce cautiously try to distract the Kipplings while using his foot to drag a pile of aconite away from a rapidly paling werewolf, who hastened to pretend he hadn't noticed the deadly plant releasing its deadly poisonous fumes in a concentration that should have made him collapse already. 

Color returned to his face as Bruce flicked his hand at the aconite and banished it behind his back. Remus leaned in and grasped Harry's hands, hovering just next to his ear. "Harry, I need you to concentrate. Do you feel the prickly feeling just under your skin?" 

"Yes…"

"I need you to keep it under control. Picture it as aura of energy and keep it running jut right under it. I know it is telling you to relax and let go but we can't afford the flames to happen here. Do you understand?"

"I think so…" Harry gasped, the prickly sensation increased around his wounds and he concentrated on keeping it all under control, while registering the fact that Remus had known about the sensations all along and feeling like an ice pick had just been stabbed into his heart. Deliberately, Harry hid his back from Remus and managed to stand without a single wince betraying the agony of the movement.

"Good. If you're not hurt, please wait in the back room while we sort this all out." Remus told Harry, looking relieved.

The injured ten-year-old removed his jumper, leaving him in a white T-shirt. Careful to not expose his back, Harry grabbed his soaked and clearly ruined Weasley jumper, feeling a ball form in his throat over losing it, and entered a private lab that had been concealed behind some heavy and dusty black drapes. Within seconds he found a mirror ant turned around to inspect the damage. 

It wasn't anything he couldn't fix, especially not anything he hadn't experienced before. He would just have to bathe and use tweezers to pull the small shards out. Afterwards he could use some salve he still had left over for bruising, the one that Healer Gantry had given him. Harry could very well take care of himself. Thankfully, his jumper seemed to have soaked up all of the potions and had left his skin dry, a fact for which he was grateful because he knew absolutely nothing about potions and Ervy spoke way too fast when he was excited about something. A noise startled him--feet on a staircase behind him.

An old woman, grayed and hunched over, came down the back stairs that led up to private quarters. She stopped in surprise to find him there and Harry shifted uncomfortably, thinking of something to say. 'Um…hi? I kind of just had an entire shelf fall on me and they left me alone in the back because they're afraid that I might hurt everyone in the shop because I'm a freak. Dumbledore, tall guy at Hogwarts, thinks bout the same. Hey, would you adopt me when I get disowned?' Somehow didn't seem suffice. 

He settled for staring back at her steadily, very aware of his exposed back and bloody shard pieces. 

"Child, you are hurt." Her wizened face swept over him and remained somewhere to the left of his forehead. "My Heavens!" She collapsed to her knees hysterically, clutching Harry's shirt. "You…_you_ are Harry Potter!"

Wide-eyed and thoroughly confused, Harry tried to pull his shirt back and she only sobbed harder. "Why no one would believe this, the great Harry Potter back to save us all."

"But I'm n-" Harry shook his head furiously, his heart hammering. What on earth was he supposed to say to that! 

"My dear child, it is an honor to stand in your presence." Then like it was a headline, "Dear Merlin, the savior comes out of hiding…" She glanced around as if she was listening for the snap of a camera or a bright light that might indicate he was an intricate joke or a wild apparition. "Stella! You must come to see this!"

Puzzled and utterly speechless, Harry turned to the door; apparently this Stella _had_ to see something completely fascinating.

But he was just Harry, a freak, yes, but that was okay because he could take care of himself. Then he remembered _Harry_ _Potter_ was famous. And that meant him; he was famous because his mum and dad were lying in graves six feet under the ground somewhere, because he was alone and that somehow made him a hero, something to gawk at. How could he have forgotten! He was never _normal_, he would always be abnormal, and he was so tired. Tired enough to make it easy for Remus to discard him, no matter what M.H Watson said he would always be nothing more than an image to anyone. First a freak, then some unreal, lonely and orphaned child hero left for someone to pity. It would never stop, not ever. And he was so very tired. 

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_ Bruce, coming through the entrance to the small room and followed by Remus, flicked his wand and the woman fell back, body solidly frozen like a slate of ice. 

"Harry, are you alright," Remus asked him softly, putting his hand over Harry's.

The young wizard laid his eyes on the connection and wrenched his hand away. 

To Remus it felt like a punch to the gut.

Fisting his hands, watching Bruster flick his wand towards the unconscious lady, Harry couldn't bear to look at his guardian. They had lied. They had told him that he had been in danger a few times, told him he might be famous when they had first announced to him that he was a wizard and had gone on to describe a dark wizard that had orphaned him. But never, not ever, had they described that they had covered up his scar or done anything else to hide who he was. Even here he had on a mask. "My scar…the thing that you did with it…it faded," he mentioned in broken whisper. 

Why did the room feel so cold so suddenly? 

The werewolf nodded slowly, apprehensive as he looked over at Bruce, whose mouth was tight as he glanced back before continuing to Obliviate the old woman of her memories without causing her harm. He was successfully violating no less than a dozen wizarding laws. "Yes…it must have faded with the trauma of the fall." He made sure to keep his voice expressionless, not entirely sure of how the young boy would act. "I should ha-"

"Don't!" Harry was so upset, pushing back the hurt and confusion that made his chest ache and his throat burn--he latched onto the hot anger. "You should have told me!" he broke in heatedly, not caring if Remus did strike him because it would hurt him much less than the pain in his chest. "You're a LIAR and I don't care anymore! I'm sorry; I'm sorry THAT YOU'RE STUCK WITH ME!"

Harry felt his blood boiling and the heavy feeling in his chest rose and reared, so hot and boiling with anger. That's all he could understand, to see the burning red behind his eyes, forgetting all about the pain. It felt so good: the tingling in his arms trailed like fire up his body, rolling like waves and tearing through his choking throat. He wanted to surrender to the feeling and hold onto it forever; if felt like everything at once and his body was becoming aware of every movement-- the wind as it swirled around him, the heat in the air as it touched his skin, the trickle of sweat down the small of his back, and every surface felt breakable, unstable, and easy to move. Continuing in a quite, angry-filled voice, "I just want you to leave me ALONE! And stop playing me like you CARE!"

Before Harry could realize it, Bruce was already running towards him, grabbing Remus and a ripping, trembling sound broke through the shop as the three disappeared regardless of the wards, landing in the common area of Remus' small flat.

All the wind and fire was gone for an instant and Harry panicked, kicking away because he needed to feel that, he wanted it so badly. His anger grew and burned hot. "DON"T TOUCH ME!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, watching like a caged animal as Bruster withdrew his wand and started to chant words in Latin. Remus was wide-eyed, staring into fiery emerald eyes as his charge's body erupted in the green flames of his magical energy. 

Bruster urged his friend, "Remus, focus on the boy; get him through this while I make sure the building isn't destroyed!"

"DON"T TOUCH ME!" the young wizard snarled furiously as Remus approached slowly with his hands in surrender. 

The young child was in a rage, his Elemental energy feeding hungrily on the feel of the anger. Green flames licked the walls and two lamps disintegrated, their light bulbs turned to dust and were swept away by the wind that was whipping the area around Harry violently. "YOU LIAR! Don't PRETEND anymore…if I'm a nasty freak; then leave me ALONE. I know how to handle that! But just don't fake being my friend…because I DON'T understand! " The cabinets were being thrown to shreds and had been splintered from the mere lashing of the Wind Elemental energy against them. 

Falling to his knees, Harry continued to scream, face screwed up in hysteria. "I CAN'T understand what I did wrong!" He looked at his flamed arms and raised them, a look of real fear on his face. "What am I!" 

"You are a wizard, Harry, just like us." Even before Remus finished his sentence, Harry was shaking his head in denial furiously and Remus watched as his charge's emerald eyes lighted to something unrecognizable, the light that Harry brought to them was gone, and they appeared unseeing—like they were looking through him. "Harry, Listen to me, I would never hate you…not ever." Remus said gently, voice remorseful. 

The anger burst again, spreading enormous cracks around the wall so that the blue light stretched and started to fade. "STOP LYING!" 

Despite the angry words and wild magic, Remus could see Harry's heart breaking, pain just mingling in the intensity of his eyes, life drifting away to the shadows once again. It was excruciating to witness. "I would never lie about that, Harry," he continued in soft tones, "I care for you greatly."

"No, no no no, NO!" Harry put his hands to his ears, shaking with rampant fury, only then recognizing the blood dripping down his arms. "Don't say IT! Everyone hates, Harry. They _can't_ help it. Aunt Petunia…dirty little freak…better off if I had died…she said…._THAT'S_ THE TRUTH! No one cares for HARRY!"

The pressure increased in the room and caused the windows to explode inward, Remus and Bruce's ear drums popping as the levels adjusted and changed rapidly. 

Harry had never felt so much fury in his life, and he wasn't sure if it was all justified. His emotions had been a wreck lately; he had started to feel a tickling sensation under his skin as if something was trying to get out. "AHHHHHH!" he screamed until his throat was raw, the wonderful sensation of feeling everything at once turned to agony, pure pain bursting every nerve in his body awake. 

It had finally found an outlet and all the pent up emotions were feeding and engorging the Elemental energy to amazing depths, causing Harry's body to activate pain sensors. 

"His brain is confused by the foreign activities and is fueling more mana particles to the source, trying to attack what is beyond its hold." Bruce yelled through the torrent of deafening sounds, every wall coated in a film of blue light once again. The rogue already looked drained. The mana particles were successfully helping the Elemental energy to expand even more. It would only end when the Elemental energy could connect with its wielder's nerves and added for the complex process of sensory recognition, carrying it out from the mana circuit in which the power had previously stayed dormant. 

Remus tried to crawl to his charge's glowing form but was pushed back by an unseen force. He had to grip what he could of the carpet to keep from slamming into the glass of the balcony door. "Listen carefully, Harry, you need to try to control it. It might feel good now, but it will worsen to hurt you!" 

The pain was at such a severe intensity that Harry felt like his limbs would soon be ripped apart. 

"Dear, Merlin, help us!" Remus stared in horror; it was now apparent that Harry had more pent up anger than he had let on; the wounds that the broken glass vials had inflicted were opening up. There was so much blood. The cursed scar on Harry's forehead had started to bleed onto his brow. The sheer power made chills run down Remus and Bruce's spines like electric shocks. 

Bruce was trying desperately to ward the room and fortify the walls layer by tiresome layer, fearing the collapse of the entire structure. He hoped that the wards could fool the Muggles and keep Harry from being exposed to all of Muggle London.

Harry opened his mouth to scream out in pain, a real terrifying fear overcoming him when he realized that he no longer had control over his body; it was like he was paralyzed in mid-air. His brain wasn't responding at all to any extraneous signals he was trying to give it-- already having too many stimuli to focus on regaining any functions when so many things seemed to be beyond its control. And though he tried frantically, Harry couldn't take in air and his brain felt woozy and unfocused, black dots obscuring his vision. He was so very tired. 

_If only he could just close his eyes…_

"Harry, open your eyes! You need to focus on your breathing," Remus cried desperately, emerald eyes fluttering open and looking up at him, wide and scared, so pure and innocent. "Make your body start to respond. Force it!" 

The ten-year-old was making choking sounds, clawing at his shirt as if being strangled. His tiny body lifted and writhed in involuntary muscle spasms, his head rolling off to the side, lax. There was no pretending anymore, not like when he had been six and had imagined, beaten and bruised, that he had died just so that he could speak to his parents. When he fantasized empty dreams that escaped him when he needed the comfort the most—any comfort—to find the will to take another step and live in broken desolation. This time Harry knew that he was dying, just as he could feel the blood rushing out of his limbs and numbing everything from head to toe. 

_I'm dying…Mum, Dad, I can finally meet you. No more pain, ever._

His lips were blue and his face was pallid. Harry _knew_ that his life was draining away and he was scared and astounded to find that he didn't really want to leave. All he could think of was the Weasleys' orange hair bobbing in the water as they waited with him near the water's edge, all smiles and no teases, Bruce perching on the outside railing and treating him as if he were more than just a kid, like he was a friend _worth_having, Dumbledore sending his kind smiles and pats on the back while addressing him 'my boy'—Harry had never belonged anywhere, let alone ever having been wanted and liked--, Hagrid grinning as they played a game of Exploding Snap, the young boy besting the groundskeeper and getting ten whole lemon sherbets in winnings, and _Moony_.

Harry gasped and took a tiny breath, veins popping up on his reddening neck and face, color returning to his cheeks in violent shades. For some reason, he was captivated by the terror in Remus' face as he pleaded for him. As the werewolf cried and tugged at Harry, the boy could see them cooking meals, laughing together, laying under the stars, Harry resting his head on his guardian's scarred chest as he was read to right after a bad full moon, listening to the 'thump' of his guardian's heartbeat and not even capable of remembering ever feeling so elated to hear it.

In a blast of overwhelming emotions, it clicked in his head somewhere that these people actually cared if he lived or died. What an odd and welcome sensation it was: an ache that started in his heart and spread warmth to his tummy. They would _want_ him to live to see another day. 

With everything he had, he used all his energy to concentrate on taking in air, forcing his lungs to work again. He didn't survive a beating with a metal chain to die now! He had to fight; he had to know what it felt like to be loved--loved like the Weasleys loved each other. He wanted that more than anything in the world. The boy was just so tired of being alone and feeling the ache of the hurt that never went away. 

_Mum, Dad, I'm sorry… they need me more. _

He found the strength to reach his arm above him, tears streaming out of his eyes as he reached for them—for the life that was gone, a family he could never ever have. 

_I love you so much, but I have to let you go. You weren't real when I was at the Dursleys and you could never keep me safe. I wanted to see your faces just once, to know that you would have really loved someone like me, but I don't want to die, not really._

Exhaling and inhaling, gust of air, blood rushing back.

_I tried to wish for you both for so long…I tried to not be bad, even when it hurt, but it never worked, not once! And I can't keep dreaming for you both, it's not real and I hate that it isn't, I hate myself, too, for lying to myself, for hoping that one day everything will be okay. I don't know you, not really—dying won't make my scars go away, it won't let me know what living as a family is like, and it will never make me forget my new friends._

"Look at my eyes Harry, focus on them," Remus pleaded as his own heart felt more pain than he had ever felt. He could not even begin to fathom the feeling of one person ever holding such an important position in his life. "Gods, I can't lose you too…" he whispered brokenly.

_They need me. __**He**__ needs me here; he needs me to live so that he can. I'm sorry. But you're not real; you can't be. You'll always be past my reach. You both are gone and I'm sorry, I don't even know what you looked like. _

Straining to look as he managed a tiny gasp of air that was hardly sufficient to his flailing lungs, Harry managed to stare into the depths of Remus' eyes. Buried deep within the depths, Harry could see the panic, the barely restrained anguish, and the brittleness of the man's very mind. The truth sunk into him like heavy stones; Remus needed him to live, he needed Harry—_he needed Harry_. There was no faux of obligation or duty like some soldier of war, the man_wanted_ him to survive, and for some reason it made Harry's heart soar.

The calm that death could offer now felt cold and empty. A desolate wasteland compared to what he could have. There was warmness in Remus' eyes, like a blanket offering shelter from the harsh winds. The werewolf that was his hand up when he fell, the unrelenting presence at his side that needed Harry as much as Harry needed him, the one man that would protect _him_ like he had never been shielded before, was standing there with tears falling from kind eyes. 

**_Goodbye._**

Harry just hoped it would work.

Within minutes, Harry was taking in large raggedy breaths, listening to the panicked voice of Remus as his head was cradled in a warm lap. 

Remus was saying, "I want him checked with a healer. We'll get him to St. Mungos."

"No," the rogue disagreed. "I'll get one of me own. They should have followed me trace back here. Do ya even understand how feared the power is, Remus? For Merlin's sake the lad will have a negative enigma on him for the rest of his life. Every wizard who even has the slightest taste for power will try to use him; and let me warn you-- every potion, artifact, and more created with his ability will be priceless if he manages to control it absolutely." 

What was left of the fireplace burned bright green for a few seconds. A stocky bespectacled man with thick shoulders Flooed into the room, followed by a frantic Healer Watson. "Sorry, Bruce, we had to put our child to bed and wake the nanny."

Bruce nodded tiredly, the wards, still caging the dissipating magic, flickered as he crouched near the ground, breathing hard and clutching his wand so hard that his knuckles went white. Irene continued on her husband's heels as he rushed to Harry's side with a medicinal leather pouch.

"Bruce, is this the child you spoke of? The one with the gift?"

Irene frowned and helped get Harry onto Remus' bed. "Harry, what have you done to yourself?"

The Mind Healer's husband swiveled his head over to her with a look of surprise, "This is a patient of yours. You've been seeing _Harry Potter_?"

Irene nodded slowly. Patient confidentiality was important to her. It was most likely the sole reason that Grendal, the Knights' leader, and Albus Dumbledore had requested her both, unaware of their shared confidence in her.

The werewolf had no time to be confused over the presence of Harry's Mind Healer. "There was an accident in Diagon Alley; he might still have shards embedded into the wounds. We weren't aware the damage was so severe," he pointed towards Harry's now soaked shirt, "things kind of went downhill from there. My fault entirely—I might have led him to believe that I no longer cared for him…he….he accused me of lying." Remus swallowed, his eyes drifting to watch Harry.

Healer Watson put a hand on his shoulder, "It's not too late to fix this, Remus. Don't give up just yet."

Harry couldn't hear the voices and everything was so far away, each breath he took seemed like an effort. Something poked him in the back and lifted off his sticky shirt. Groaning at the burning sensation, Harry felt like every muscle in his body had been pulled past their point. 

"The pain must have been past excruciating. He is clearly spent of all energy. Give him these later so that he can sleep. I'll just rub his muscles down with the proper salves," he directed his wand to the glass pieces, "accio!" the healer cried. The glass came out and came to rest on the carpet as the Mr. Watson cleaned out the wounds before he healed them with a simple spell. "There, all done. Now he just needs rest."

"Thank you," Remus said, shaking the man's hand and stowing away the potions the healer had handed to him.

The Mind healer nodded at Remus with a comforting smile before she turned to the rogue, now being examined by her husband, who was currently being swatted away for his efforts. "Bruster, explain to me what has occurred to this boy," the stocky man asked.

Exhausted, the rogue gulped down some strengthening potions before he answered, "The lad's body has managed to awaken the receptors in the brain that may be usable as controls. Before they were flaring when enticed, but now he has a chance to exercise his powers and rein them in. As of today, and a couple years practice, his body will be able to tap into the natural currents in the environment and use them at equilibrium with his mana."

"Well…that's plenty thorough. We should be off," Mr. Watson said quickly. Before he made the complete turn he winced when the rogue called out for him to stop.

Glaring, Bruster demanded, "Dreamless Sleep. Ye arseholes haven't sent me a dose in a whole bloody week!"

"You insisted on increasing your Calming Draught doses…" the man explained. "It's the only thing we can do to make sure your body can take it."

I see how making sure the insomniac loses whatever rest he gets helps….but no, you're the bloody experts!" he roared back, eyes flashing darkly.

"If we allow you to drink it every night then you will become dependant upon it just to fall asleep. Your body will become as addicted to that as it is to your draughts." The healer had the air of someone who was accustomed to repeating himself. 

Irene Watson spoke slowly, "You could always work through th--"

Bruce cut her off before she could even begin, "Listen, I. Do that and I. Will. Go. Bloody. Mad, ya insistent damsel!" he snarled, teeth barred. 

She continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I don't want to push--"

"Then don't. Not a damn soul can help. Least of all you—open as a fecking book whenever I look at ya! Jaysus, ya would think _you _were in therapy, not meself… And I'm not insulting ye as a professional…ya do yer job when it's due, but in me case, if I can spend the session seeing yer bloody ma's tendency to be controlling then we're not getting much done," he finished, tone remaining non-threatening. "Now leave, we're all bloody tired…I'll give Grendal me orders tonight and ready the place for repairs."

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After Remus had placed an exhausted Harry in his bedroom, he assessed the permanent potion burns on Harry's already scarred back, noting the tiny pink lines were darker than the thinning white ones that had been hatefully inflicted barely a year ago. He massaged some more salve into his charge's back, feeling his throat close up to see the vast amount of hidden scars and burns that would never leave the pale boy's skin. 

Medical records, given to him by Dumbledore, and made by Healer Gantry, who had saved Harry's life, had documented a full physical of the young wizard's state. Remus hadn't read it, afraid to see the extent of what Harry had gone through. The gravity of blame upon his shoulders for letting James and Lily's son live in a hell for so long was already so high, he wasn't so sure he could take anymore.

With shaking hands, the werewolf started to read. The list went on and on: emaciation due to malnutrition, stunted growth, numbness in areas where the nerve endings hadn't mended correctly (including the tip of his left index finger, and parts of his hand, where it seemed someone had crushed it), bones that had been broken so long and in so many places that there were hair-line fractures that not even magic could heal , the scars were spread all over his body, now lining Harry's entire body, adding to the scattered burns and blemishes already on his pale torso. No potion or salve could treat the damage without risking Harry's life. There was just too much that could go wrong. 

Dumbledore had tried to sit him down to speak of it, but Remus just couldn't--_hadn't_-- been able to face it, to try be strong. Arthur and Molly, who had had been given the file as well, had listened to Dumbledore while setting up the wards around The Burrow, but not even they had been able to touch the file, let alone read it. 

The Weasley matriarch had insisted on slowly introducing larger portion sizes to the boy's meals. Regular portions made him ill. Then she banned flying, fearing that a fall could further damage the fractures that Healer Gantry hoped would heal as Harry grew. Playing was kept light for Harry's benefit and a watchful eye was usually trained on him just to be sure that nothing occurred. 

Remus wanted to keep Harry sheltered, safe from harm, but by doing that he had destroyed whatever trust the boy had placed in him. It was a wonder that the child hadn't lost control sooner. Smoothing back Harry's mop of hair, Remus pressed his ear to the young child's heart, the steady rhythm relaxing the tightness in his chest.

"_Unkie?" Baby Harry, fourteen months old at the time and just learning to communicate in fuller sentences, had asked him once when Remus had been coaxed to visit by Sirius, even though he had been completely drained from a failed mission. The baby had put a hand over his eyes, looking all too concerned.  
_

"_No, Harry, I'm sleepy. I need a nap. And your Mummy says you need one, too." Remus smiled and petted Harry messy hair as he set him on the playroom floor._

_The baby was briefly distracted by the shiny clasp of Remus' cloak before he looked up and mentioned__, "Blankie, Unkie Mu, Blankie!" Baby Harry grinned proudly as he tottered a distance and handed Remus his little blue blankie._

"_Why thank you, Harry." Remus grabbed the proffered blanket and picked the tiny child up._

_With a grin and a healthy flashing of large and emerald, innocent eyes, Harry lay on top of his chest, little limbs off to the side as he hugged his honorary uncle with umblemished hands. "Unkie Mu, dremz..."_

"_Goodnight, little guy. Sweet dreams." Remus transfigured Harry's dressing table into a couch and he fell asleep with Harry on his chest. _

"_Harry same!" Harry pointed to his chest excitedly when he woke up from the nap, pressing his tiny fingers over Remus' own heart and holding up a chestnut colored hair that he had pulled out of his Unkie Mu's scalp, planting it on the top of his head and grinning. It was James' grin, though his cheeks were flushed pink like Lily's did when she laughed. _

_Lily came in then. "Harry love, how did you enjoy your nap with Uncle Moony?" she said as she offered her son a sippy cup full of juice and kissed the toddler on the cheek._

"_Mu now hapy, Mummy." Harry said, pointing at a smile that betrayed Remus' amusement._

_Remus grinned as he lunged at the baby, setting the sippy cup on the floor, and tickling the boy mercilessly as he giggled. "And who said I wasn't happy; I was with you!"_

_Harry laughed happily, the action revealing that although his grin and naughty expressions were all James' , Harry's laughter and expressive eyes were all Lilly's. In that instant, his face revealed more of his mother's traits and less of James'. It was truly a wonder to see.  
_

Lily, noting that her friend needed his proper rest, addressed her son, "_Now say bye bye to Remus, he has to go back home and you, my luv, are going to take a bath."_

_Harry, leaning over, smacked a sloppy wet kiss on Remus' cheek. "Bye bye, Unkie Mu."_

_Lily laughing, picked the baby up while wiping Harry's slobber off her embarrassed friend's soaked cheek, kissing Remus farewell on the other one after Remus stood. "Take care of yourself, Remus, I don't what Harry would do without his Unkie Mu," she had said playfully, though her eyes said she was serious._

"_I'll try, Lily. Though I wish your son would learn to say 'Moony', I feel like I'm named after a milk cow for Merlin's sake." Remus had left then, leaving mother and son to giggle, with a smile on his lips that hadn't left his face until he had gotten home to find it ransacked. _

_The order members had been suspicious of him and had searched his place—Sirius had led them-- they had believed him the spy and had tried to make it look like a Death Eater raid. The werewolf sense smelled fellow order members, Sirius, and James' familiar scents all over his possessions (though James had probably been dragged in and had refused to search, as his scent was only by the door). They hadn't ever been informed of how good his sense of smell got near a full moon; it would make for a very awkward conversation and he had never had a desire to tell them that he could identify whatever activity they had been doing just by the smell of it—__**he**__had rather not known.__ He hadn't gone back to Godric's Hollow after that, feeling both humiliated and betrayed for even being suspected. That day with Harry and Lily had been his last._

_James and Lily had been murdered in a month's time, leaving their fifteen- month-old orphaned with nightmares and a situation he didn't understand. How could anyone explain to a child that no matter how much he cried for them, mummy and daddy would never come back?_

Frowning when his memory started to go sour, Remus stood, covering Harry with the duvet. "Unkie Mu" he quoted the unharmed and still innocent baby Harry, "is so very sorry, Harry…for everything." He exited his bedroom, deliberately averting his eyes as not to see the scorched walls and destroyed furniture, and was met with Bruce's barely restrained shouting into the Floo. 

"I don't give a shit! Get Malfoy off our tail and get what we need for the mangy dog. We will get him out next week, no later. They're starving the poor bastard."

Remus immediately locked himself in the loo with a silencing charm. He didn't want to know, not at the present. There was already too much on his chest to burden with thought of old friends.

"Does the wolf know what they're doing to him?" An aged, yet strangely soothing voice came away from the ashes of the Floo connection.

"Of course bloody not! The eejit has got the worse guilt reserves I've ever seen." The rogue seethed, shoulders slumped with exhaustion and black pouches under his eyes. The man looked awful: hair matted, face lined in exhaustion and madness, eyes strangely dim, and his voice as ruffled as his untidy apparel. "Have ya approved of me plans?"

The other man was silent for a few beats. "Yes, Bruce. Now get your rest, my good chap. You expended all of your energy on holding those wards."

"I need a Patronitus Charm cast on a 50-pence piece. Send Jack with the usual protections as close as he can get. Vextra should have had the rest of the Invisibles prepare protected rations and medicines. Make sure they arrive soon."

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Remus was pacing, nervous and frightened and so many things at once that he had no idea what to do with himself. Harry had awoken from the disaster in the morning emotionally scarred and terrified that he had been responsible for the destroyed state of his flat. With calm reassurances, Remus had managed to speak to Harry about his own mistakes in the past months. And though he hadn't been ready to approach the topic of the boy's godfather, the werewolf had explained the fact that he had always been accustomed to being alone and that Harry made his life a happier one but he wasn't sure what would interest a ten-year-old beyond fascinating tomes.

Then Harry had asked the question about what he was. It had been tougher than he had expected, making sure Harry understood that his Elemental ability was to remain a secret and that no, he was not a freak of any kind. Telling an abused child that they would one day have the ability to use the environment for their own purposes, especially the control of the four essential elements was a daunting task that heeded for one to tread very carefully. But contrary to what anyone would expect, Harry had looked so sad, tired, and plainly resigned. Like every year broke down any remnants of the child he could have been had Lily and James survived, leaving a boy with a tired soul and an abused heart. 

"_You have to understand that none of this is your fault, Harry. I just wanted what was best for you and I foolishly believed that giving you a little more time without this weighing on your mind would be beneficial to you. I was gravely mistaken, and the blame falls upon me for misleading you to believe that our relationship had changed for the worse."_

_The scar that marked Harry's forehead had inflamed bright red and Harry, he could tell, was trying very hard not to scratch at it. Staying quiet for several moments, giving Remus time to settle his uneasiness over seeing the reaction on the cursed blemish that really shouldn't have occurred, Harry finally spoke, "I'm so mad at you," the boy admitted, though he looked more upset than angry. "I trusted you not to hurt me and you did. It…" he struggled with the words, apparently flustered "I need to think…and I'm not sure I want to do that here...with you."_

_Remus shut his eyes and opened them, reaching a shaking hand to grab the Floo powder, and he handed it to the young boy. "Then go to the Weasleys', spend a few days there, and come back in time to leave for what could be our new home if you feel you're ready. If what I have done is unforgivable then I will personally…" he gulped painfully, "look for an arrangement that will truly make you happy. You deserve that, Harry. And though I would wish to start off new and be given another chance…I will not think wrong of you for choosing a choice that you feel will suit your needs." Remus held back his aching heart and squashed it out in his chest, keeping his voice steady._

_With a hesitant hand, Harry grabbed the powder and walked towards the flames. Then he looked back as if unsure before flinging the powder down and shouting 'The Burrow!". Emerald eyes met his as the body was whisked away and Remus watched as tears spilled to stain small cheeks, voice cracking on the last syllables._

Later, he had contacted Healer Watson:

"There is nothing more I can do for him, Remus. He's protecting himself beyond a wall that I cannot climb over. As much as it hurts me, Harry just made his choice. And I would never force him. He's in your hands now."

"But…Healer Watson…"

"He's told me things and I have tried t make it appear as if it isn't his fault, but there are some wounds I cannot go deep enough to heal. Harry is currently unable to discuss with _anyone_ his abuse at his relative's hands, especially without irrationally and defensively trying to protect himself from the hurt the memories cause him."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"Be strong for him. Love him for all he's worth; do that and he may have a fighting chance. Besides writing in his journal, discussing that time with me has him reticent. Currently, he is growing very tired of living each experience again, memories that he had at one point buried. It's doing more harm than good and he is just not emotionally ready or not nearly mature and secure with himself to broach what his life has been."

"Okay…" Remus breathed out a resigned sigh. 

"Just know that what those Muggles did to him isn't over. Harry's buried those feelings and he's not coming back to dig up the bone. That said, he has improved exponentially; what with the black outs decreasing, self-esteem rise—although not by very much--. I must warn you, however, that he did trust you, and that you will do well to not treat it lightly are you to regain it---I fear a betrayal could destroy him and all that we have worked for. I can only hope that he keeps his friends near. And he will, with an utmost attachment."

"I will take care of him if he allows me the chance."

"Remember, Remus. He doesn't understand the role an adult should have over him, and it upsets and confuses him when he tries to give due respect or blind trust when he has learned that he only receives pain and hurt in return. He screams and grows defensive with any deceit, and Harry has no grasp of the fact that an adult holds the role of protection. At this point in time he understands friendship and what other's families are really like. Everything he sees is brand new, including love and care or white lies—The Dursleys never censored something that would hurt him, they lied to him in order to force him to believe all sorts of nasty and derogatory remarks about his place in the world. So anything other than the truth will be considered a lie that does him harm."

Morosely the werewolf settled on the couch and watched as Harry's Mind Healer's face disappeared from the flames. 

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Days later, Bruce found him, not having bathed and disheveled. The younger man held a glass between two hands. 

"Remus, what spirit are ya cradling there?" Bruce asked, feigning interest, rolling his eyes, and sighing like a petulant teenager when Remus wasn't looking. He slung the bag that he had been carrying over a chair. It sounded suspiciously like clanging metal, that or an arsenal, if Remus knew anything about the older man. 

"Pumpkin juice; though I might have added a touch of whiskey," the younger man answered, resting his head against the hands that were clasped in front of him, holding the amber alcoholic beverage. 

The excitement to go off on his own slowly left Bruce's stance and he deflated slightly, plotting himself down on the arm of the chair. "Bloody hell, Remus, I feel like yer fecking shrink. Only I don't get paid a knut! We've been speaking of the same bloody things since I got here." With another tired sigh he grudgingly inquired, "Hmm…have ya had any yet?"

"No, I was pacing," he said as if it explained everything. "You know, I don't have a clue what I'd do if Harry doesn't decide to return tomorrow." Remus peered into his glass, still full to the brim. "Is this all I am, Bruce?"

"Ya aren't going ta drink it, eejit," Bruce said. "I have something else much better. Even though I'm not sure how wise ya are to be takin' advice from a madman." Bruce grabbed something from the back pocket of his jeans. "I found this while I was cleaning out the salvable tomes." It was a photograph from when Remus had taken Harry to a Muggle amusement park, during the first few weeks that the young child had come to live with him. Harry had on a wide smile and was hugging the older wizard happily while Remus smiled. 

"Now, ya can choose to drink that," he looked pointedly at the beverage in the younger man's grip, "or ya can choose life. If not for yerself than for him." He placed the photo in Remus' hand.

The younger man slumped over more, putting his drink to the side and cradling his head with his hand. "How do you tell a child that your days are already burrowed. My transformations will take their toll on my body; I'll be lucky if I reach sixty, Bruce. A life of sickness and pain not to be compared with the relentless rejection." His breath hitched, and he continued sadly, "I can't even be sure that they won't take him from me if they find out about what I am. I could go out for a transformation and get hunted down by some vigilante trying to cleanse the world of dangerous creatures." 

He swallowed thickly before continuing, "It's impossible to get it out of my mind that he'll come to rely on me just to lose me; how could I be that selfish and cruel? I know what I am; is it so wrong that I want to be the person to make him happy because he makes me feel like I am living for the first time since I lost my best friends? Is it wrong to want to stop hating myself just because he requires it of me?" Remus' eyes shone with pain, lips pressed together. 

"I won't apologize nor will I pity ya, old friend. But the truth is that they could very well do all those things, that ya might die, that Harry might end up suffering later on in his life with all that will face him. Wizards with power rarely have easy lives, like the great Albus Dumbledore, people expect too much of him and then fear or hate him when times aren't right. Regardless of what happens, what that lad can get from ya is priceless whether he does lose ya or not."

"What is that?" Remus looked up, grey streaked locks obscuring the view of his face.

"Ya can be the one person that sees him for who he is. That can see behind the Elementals, the image of a hero, and his blank facades. You'll see Harry, and that will be worth more and will last longer whether he does stray away from the path or if he is taken from ya. He will remember that at some point he had someone who gave him something no one else ever had, that ya loved him for who he was, no matter what he did. And for those precious seconds he'll know that he isn't alone."

"So, it will be worth it in the end? That I should risk whatever pain this can cause both of us for our own selfish reasons and the rest should be forgotten, swept under the rug for later viewing."

"Yes. When I spoke of loneliness and struggles I wasn't speaking of my…" the rogue paused, the words causing him physical pain, "offspring. I was referring to meself. I'm no expert, but I know what can happen if those around ya can't understand ya—it's a horrible fate, the solitude. So, if ya chose to listen to me, just recognize that it's a slow process to get through walls that run that deep. It's painful, trying, and some days you'll want to give up, but it'll be worth it…" the older man took a second to look away as he gulped painfully and took a shaky breath, determined to get his point across, "even if all is lost one day. That's the truth I know…and it keeps me going on days that I just rather not." 

Bruce stood, patting his friend's shoulder in support and flicking his wand over the glass so that the contents disappeared. "Take it day by day, be ready to welcome Harry back tomorrow…I might be late to meet ya and Dumbledore but I'll be there."

Curiosity got the better of him and Remus asked, "Where are you going?"

"Would ya rather I told ya the truth or an elaborate lie created to throw ya off the trail of a top secret mission and potentially save your life from stray spies lurking in the shadows?" He kept a straight face following the ridiculously exaggerated question.

Remus frowned and crossed his arms, not at all into games at the moment.

Unfazed and looking entirely too cheerful, Bruce smiled, the scars on his tanned face twisting into an ugly line. "Tomorrow, mate, I'm goin ta break a few highly respected international wizarding laws, steal from an educational institution, and act insanely immature fer approximately 24 hours, and not a bloody second less." 

Instead of trying to discern whether the rogue was serious or not Remus commented, "Sounds questionable in regards to legality, doesn't it?"

"What is questionable is yer ownership of a quill and parchment so that ya can write what I say down, hopefully that will encourage ya not to have me repeat another advice session about yer situation."

Remus set his empty glass down and stood, shaking his head at the oddly cheerful rogue. "What have you drugged yourself with today, Bruster?"

"Might have overdone the draughts this morning, old friend," he said nonchalantly. "Farewell, Remus! Try not to need me, I half expect to grow a wise beard soon, though I might just look like a mad drunkard instead of wise." He Disapparated with a loud 'POP!' while wearing a thoughtful expression that said he might just try it.

"The man is a mad mess." Remus mumbled to himself before he hastened to combat his boredom by straightening the repaired shelves of books.

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The dingy walls were coated with dew, diseased water trickling, and the stone was eroding and causing the room to smell of slow rotting death. The moonlight seemed to illuminate the damp moisture on the walls, making the room appear somewhat more dreadful as it made the filthy walls glow. A man sat on the floor, shadows creeping onto his crumbled and pitiful form. The barren and chipped prison bars that caged the man seemed to tremble from the effect of the passing warden of the desolate maximum security prison. 

The man's skeletal body shivered at the constant bone chilling cold. His sunken eyes were lost and dark; a mad glint loomed within them. The prisoner's once handsome face was heavy with grime, despair, and shaggy, dark facial hair that was layered upon his waxy gaunt face. He had long, wavy hair that fell past his thin shoulders in a knotted mess. A tattered prison jumper hung loosely upon his severely emaciated torso, caused by the fact that he hadn't had his usually meager meals in days. 

He ached more than usual; he could practically hear his organs struggle to keep working, knowing that his body was surely shutting down. The pounding headache made him positive that his head would explode soon; it felt like he had been hit with a Bludgeoning Curse. His mind, for lack of a better thing to do, was running wild with theories on why he was finally being subjected to starve to death in the hell that other wizards called 'Azkaban'. 

"_Sirius Black." _Sirius let out a scratchy cough that had been meant to be a maniacal chuckle as he gazed at the right of his crumbling cell with dark and heavy-lidded eyes. On the wall, his name was scratched on with a sharp pebble he had found on the day of his incarceration. When he had been pushed into his deathbed by hell's demons, he had been so sure that it would be useful to write his name down. Perhaps remembering his name would decrease the chances of the Plague of Insanity, as the mad prisoners had deemed it, from spreading from the other prisoners like a foul smell into his cell. Now he was struggling to stay awake for fear that he would never wake up. 

Off in the distance, from what Sirius could tell as he looked up ten feet towards the barred hole in the wall that had been made for ventilation—fat lot of good that did, the place reeked--, there was a bright light. He started to feel a familiar pulse in the air, one he hadn't felt much in years. The exhausted prisoner was startled to realize that the sensation was magic.

The light was moving quickly and silently towards his cell and when it impacted the wards the entire prison trembled slightly, disrupting a layer of dust and dirt from all the walls and raining over Sirius.

Looking around wildly, half expecting to see a drove of Dementors enter his cell to torment him, Sirius' eyes widened to see that a hazy, almost transparent, golden shield enveloping his cell in warmth and protection. 

The bright light that had taken the time to hover near the ceiling faded and a voice—an actual human voice!—spoke to him. "Moony requests a password" A glowing Patronus said in a familiar voice. The gaunt wizard's eyes were so accustomed to darkness that all he could see was a blur that was much too bright. 

Shocked and shaking, Sirius allowed his madness an answer. "I…s-solemnly…s-swe..ar…" he gasped for breath, speech taking entirely too much energy, "that I'm u-u-up to no g-good," he finally coughed out, his mouth tasting of blood and the flesh of his throat burning raw. 

"While in a most grievous contention to the band of sniveling buffoons of the ministry, we have decided that our dear old innocent friend Sirius Black should be the subject of a mad rescue mission. Please be ready to depart in a few days' time and kindly thank the monsters with lovely baked crumpets for letting you visit. Remember, you mangy dog, you should always come to dinner when we whistle for you. So please free up your busy schedule for such an event. Good day! Melanis and Moony dispatch." With a bow, the figure disintegrated, leaving only white tendrils of magic that Sirius lifted his bony fingers to touch. As they came in contact with his hand, they swirled around it, glowing before they made the shape of a small parcel.

No, he could not bring himself to think it real. He shut his eyes, bowing his head as a sob escaped his bloody and chapped lips. But even as he thought of denying himself the pleasure of another fantasy, his quaking hands were already unraveling the very real package in his hands. 

Food, vials of healing and nutrient potions and---dear, Merlin!—a Muggle photograph of a smiling raven-haired little nine-year old boy and his best friend Remus Lupin at an amusement park were all inside. It was all real, all spelled for only his eyes. 

There was mercy in this universe after all.

For the first time in years, Sirius Black allowed himself to hope as he drifted off to sleep in a potion-induced haze, to dream of a little boy with startling green eyes and a welcoming smile. The picture remained clutched in his hand even in sleep, waiting, and the neat script on the back displaying the message **'A pronglet to live for.'**

_Yes_, Sirius thought as he drifted off, _there was_.

He reasoned that even if he had finally cracked and gone completely mad, that he would at least be happy doing it. Dementors couldn't eat up his positive feelings if masked with insanity, surely they could not.

**A/N: I would like to thank all the people who actually take the time out to review. _Romulus, Zoeker, Mou'Ikka, neb92, Lia, The Quivering Quill, boycrazy30002, Draghknar, Decimare, desiking75, hahaheeheehaha, Kyubbi-Sama,The Blind Apprentice, Jensindenial3516, wild-one08, ironwoman, Merzah, Omentuva, Blackmusasabi, Cecilia, Irian, Slytheringrules, ikot-ikot, faulted, Invisus Solus. Thank you all so much for encouraging me to continue posting on this site. _**


	13. Home by Dark

**Disclaimer**: How can you not know? The entire site is dedicated to the same thing.

**Author's Notes:**

Yay! A chapter. I must have scrapped and redone this chapter a dozen times. School has been hectic, the financial aid office lost all my forms, I signed up for summer courses and then I was cursed with a horrible toothache. Needless to say, I am in terrible pain and still need to got to class and focus for about six hrs every day--for only two courses! Arghhh! Oh, and I had to study for my finals and I'm happy to announced I passed with A's! How happy are we? No, just me then... Anyway, I introduce a few characters in this one, don't concern yourself with trying to retain all of their info, just let them sit in the background and enjoy their crazy personalities. ;) I can't believe how much research I did for this chapter: the antique furniture, house styles, location, spells, trees, Latin lessons, weapons and the likes. I even looked up name meanings and other specific details for the characters. Please enjoy reading and review, I'm so happy with how many people are enjoying my story. Please review, it really does help give me ideas for the next chapter when my head is a jumble of ideas. :D

**Home by Dark**

"Come on, Harry!" Ginny tip-toed out of the kitchen, waving Harry over, and closing the battered screen door behind him as he exited.

Harry cast a bleary eye in her direction. He had stayed up like the red-head had asked and she had been at least half an hour late. The green-eyed boy hadn't slept well in days, staring off at the shadowed ceiling of Ron's room, worried about all the things that were flooding him as of late.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder and smiled, turning her attention towards making sure she didn't bump into her dad's Muggle gadgets. Noise would definitely give them away in an instant, and her parents would have a fit if they knew she was out so late, especially when they discovered that she had taken Harry with her.

After they had settled on the grass, Ginny fixed her brown eyes on Harry, who was nervously pulling out strands of grass and twisting them in his fingers. "I'm glad you came for my birthday, Harry."

His lack of response was hardly forthcoming.

"You seem…quiet," she said gently, playing with a button on her pajama sleeve.

Immediately stopping his abuse of the patch of grass that was now twisted in odd directions, Harry crumbled the lone blade in his grip. "I'm fine." He brought his face up, meeting her eyes and forcing a smile.

Ginny immediately smiled back. "Good... It's just that Ron told me that it was strange Mum hadn't said anything about you coming to stay for so long."

"She must have forgotten to tell you," Harry answered without hesitation, looking up at the half moon that reminded him of Dumbledore's spectacles.

_That was easy, _Harry thought.

Ginny stood after fidgeting for a few minutes and Harry watched the newly nine-year-old use her limbs to climb a tree with obvious skill, hoisting her body onto a thick branch high off the ground. "Come on up," Ginny said from the top, her legs swinging off the side.

With a groan to his friend's agility, Harry followed her up the tree.

"Harry? Have you ever climbed a tree before?" Ginny asked as she watched her friend clumsily make his way up the trunk.

Harry grunted noncommittally as his pathetically thin arms performed worse than Ginny's and he ungracefully tried to make it up. Finally, after immense strain on his body while going about ten times slower than his younger friend, Harry settled himself at Ginny's side, heaving and sweating profusely. "I…" deep breath, "made…it!"

Forgetting that it was her friend Harry, she joked lightly, "About time, too…" She only realized her mistake when she saw her friend's empty expression. It made her want to run to her parents for a cuddle.

"Sorry…" she said sincerely. Ginny was so upset with herself; some things just came natural to Weasleys and she had forgotten that everything that Harry did with them was usually new and hard for him to understand.

Ginny sounded sad that she had hurt him and Harry couldn't bear to see her brown eyes look like that. Accepting her apology and letting his guard down with only a sliver of vulnerable anxiousness, Harry nodded.

The young girl looked unsure, biting her lip, but continued anyway. "The day we went swimming here, I said I'd share some of my secrets if you shared yours…" she began.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, to tell her to forget it, that it he had lied and that she couldn't have seen the freakish way his armed flamed and still be his friend, but she completely stopped him before he could begin.

"You're my friend," she said with not amount of doubt. "Friends keep each others secrets and I felt bad that I didn't get a chance to say any of mine. It's only fair." She grinned and spread her arms. "So, welcome to my third favorite spot at The Burrow. Just keep it a secret and you can use it too. Daddy always said that little fresh air never hurt anybody."

Harry hadn't been expecting that at all. She was keeping her promise to him?!

"Next…hmmm. I got it!" Ginny frowned but then her face softened and she shrugged. "Mum wants to keep it a secret from you that wizards ride brooms," she informed him.

Images of broom displays at Diagon Alley finally made sense. "Great. I was half expecting wizards to be obsessed with sweeping," said Harry, feeling better than he had for days.

Ginny giggled, making Harry smile. "Yes…but the brooms we use are made for _flying_. There's a game that's played but that would take all night to explain." She bit her lip and used both hands to put her hair behind her ears, avoiding his eyes like she usually did when she went against something her parents had specifically told her not to do. "Don't tell anyone, Mum would have a fit, but sometimes I take a broom out from the shed and ride it out at night…it's my second favorite place to be in the world."

Harry's face lit up with awe -- she had actually kept her promise! He stopped himself. It was never normal to gape at such gestures, the ten-year-old quickly remembered, so he asked, "Does Ron get to play?" That was fairly reasonable, he hoped.

"Yes!" Ginny let out an exasperated sound. "Mum thinks I'm too little to play such a wild game with the other boys and the boys don't let me play either. But one day I'll show them." Her eyes blazed with intensity and her little jaw was set in determination.

Harry nearly groaned out loud at her words. "So…your mum said to keep it from me because she thought I would get hurt, too?" Harry asked, flushing as he realized he was being compared to a nine-year-old girl because of his size. It was true, he could give her that, he had always been very small for his age.

"I don't know…" his friend's eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. "I think that the thing with the wards scared her…I heard them talk…_again,_" she said with a sheepish sideways glance as Harry smirked. Ginny turned away to hide her own amusement. "And I think that she's not sure if you can be safe up there."

"Oh." A calm silence settled over them. "Ginny? Where did you guys go after I left with Dumbledore?"

"Harry," said Ginny, "you aren't supposed to ask that! Mum would make clean the chicken coops for a month if I told you."

"Please, Ginny," Harry begged, turning his emerald eyes on her. "I'm so tired of all the secrets around me. I'm not made of glass y' know."

"Yes, I know…but if you were made of glass it'd be plenty fixable…Mum does it all the time," she said in a playful tone. She grinned brilliantly, exposing a gap in one of her front teeth where it a tooth had recently fallen out.

Harry pouted to show that he wasn't going to allow a topic change even if it was something as amazing as glass being able to be fixed after being shattered into thousands of pieces. Ginny was much too good at trying to change the subject.

Ginny's small, lightly-freckled face took on the strange expression Harry had seen on the morning that they had been about to leave for the lake. "I have a friend, the one I taught to swim before you, and her mum had a bad accident right before her eyes." Ginny gazed at Harry sadly before she whispered, "She hasn't spoken since…and it's terrible. We went to the burial and she didn't say a word to anyone--just stood there."

Everything fell together and Harry finally understood the strange expression—it was the face people wore when they were hurting or when they were sad and wanted to hide it away. Harry knew that face all too well; he had practiced it his entire life, perfected it.

Harry turned his head away, fixing his eyes forward, as a flash of green light invaded his thoughts like a clinging phantom. "I'm sorry…for her; it must be terrible to see it happen."

"I can't imagine… At least she has her dad, except he isn't holding up too good…I think he runs a funny newspaper or something. Heard Mum and Dad talking _accidentally—_reallythis time!_ --_ And she said that the articles have been coming out more loony than before. They said that it was his way of coping with their sadness; 'to blur the lines of fantasy and reality so that it lessens the blow of tragedy'. At least, that's what Dad said," she finished with a frown.

"I hope she gets better, Ginny," Harry mumbled before he made his way down the trunk, stopping about halfway and leaping off when he feared it would take his body all night.

The red-head observed her friend carefully before she gingerly reached the bottom, finding Harry leaning up against the tree and looking up into the stars with his striking emerald eyes.

Remembering something, she exclaimed, "Oh, I forgot to mention it. It's about the burial," her excitement didn't waiver, "but the most amazing thing did happen there."

Harry's attention peaked.

"A gold light shot up into the sky during the ceremony and made a cloud of pretty dust. When we looked again, there were all these golden symbols on the headstone." She rambled on, "And it had one large emblem with a big sun, lots of rays, and a tiny crescent moon, which had seven stars inside, all in the circle. Daddy said the rest of the lines looked Latin and Charlie agreed. Not even the Lovegoods knew who had done it." She excitedly grabbed a twig from the ground and wrote, '_Ad lucem__'_and '_Aeternum vale'_, on the soil. Her loopy letters made the words that Harry was sure she was misspelling look like a long, uneven, squiggle.

Puzzled, Harry stared long and hard at it while Ginny proudly looked down at her artwork.

"Daddy read from the carving," she offered, "it means,_ '__towards the light;_ _farewell__ forever'_. It even made my friend smile a little." She finished wonderingly, "I wish I knew who'd done it."

"Me, too," Harry said. Something about the specific symbols just struck him as familiar and he didn't know why. A book he had gotten for Christmas perhaps? Maybe it had been a gift he had received? "Ginny, what's your first favorite place?"

Ginny yawned, rubbing her big, sleepy eyes. "I'm not telling, Harry. Besides, if I run out of secrets now, what'll I have to share when you want to tell me something else?"

Harry grinned at her coy expression. "Right. Let's get you inside now." Harry said.

After Ginny had sneaked up to bed, not without complaining that she wasn't little anymore and by no means needed anyone to tuck her in, Harry sat himself cross-legged before the fire, a tin of Floo powder at his feet. Hours passed and it was six before he knew it. He just couldn't stop thinking about the last few months. And in the morning he would have to decide if he was going back to Remus and live in his parent's old house.

Surely, Remus didn't really want him? Who would? He was only ten and had to go to a mind healer; he was dirty and tainted, lost. Days came and went when he felt almost normal but then everything would crumble and he'd be just a freak once more. He still got so happy when Remus prepared a meal for him, or when he caught Harry gazing at something he wanted and bought it for him.

Harry, even after so many months, didn't understand the kindness, especially when he hadn't had to even clean for it. And, how freakish of him to see as a simple squeeze of a shoulder as eight Weasley Christmases packed into one? But then everything had gone wrong and Remus had stopped speaking to him-- he would look away when all Harry had wanted was to be assured that someone knew he was in the room. The weird behavior had been like a cold bucket of water on his long-awaited happiness. He had been ridiculous-- trailing after the man, being so demanding for reassurances that he didn't deserve.

The tragic expression on his Remus' face as Harry had struggled to breathe those days ago sprung back into the young wizard's mind. Could he go back, be vulnerable, and trust Remus simply because he would miss him if he was gone?

_**You don't need him. Adults…they're all the same. They betray you in the end.**_

Not Remus.

_**No? He'll send you away when he realizes that you deserve nothing. Not the clothes or the food or all the time he's given up to make sure your pathetic displays of brooding at that Healer office fixed you up. You just turned out to be a bitter disappointment. Does it really matter that he kept things from you, that he doesn't want to spend any more time with you then necessary? You saw how Dumbledore obligated him; how the headmaster is making sure you aren't a danger to anyone. Then he has to teach you… What does he get out of it but exhaustion and regret? Your gratitude?! Oh, yes, as soon as he finally told you the truth, you left him to come here! **_

Harry gripped the rug as his mind went to the dark place he didn't like. No, he had left because he wasn't worth the trouble that he had caused Remus. Remus, who had looked so hurt…

_**The least you can do is be the normal child he expected to have from his best friends. I doubt very much that he wanted a little runt who cries and moans about his unfair upbringing. You must earn your keep; that's how it's always worked. **_

"Why, hello, Harry," Mr. Weasley interrupted the young boy's rampant thoughts as he came up behind him with a tea set.

"Morning, Mr. Weasley," Harry greeted without taking his eyes away from the flames. His mind was raging, his vision swimming with vivid flashes of walls being torn to pieces, of the feeling of his body raging out of his control. The image of what he had done, of what Remus said he could do, was terrifying.

"Would you like a fresh cup? Brewed it myself," Mr. Weasley said kindly.

"Thanks," said Harry after he had taken the warm tea, his eyes finally meeting the older man's. He looked away quickly, feeling vulnerable, trapped. "Do you usually wake up this early to make tea by yourself, sir?" Harry asked softly, making sure to sound casual.

Chuckling, Mr. Weasley set his cup down. "No—usually sneak up to the shed and take apart some of the most fasc-…" he paused, realizing he was getting off topic and his expression getting serious again.

Harry put down his own steaming cup by his feet. "Did they tell you what I did?" he asked, head down. He didn't know what he'd do if the older wizard looked down at him with disgust.

"Not a word. Remus told Molly and I that he had let you down; and that he would be grateful if we let you stay for a few days. He needn't have, Dumbledore had Flooed us ten minutes earlier, asking me to speak with your guardian."

Relieved, Harry took a deep breath.

"Remus Lupin is a good man," said Mr. Weasley. "But I still worry. I worry that I haven't done enough to make you feel at ease in the wizarding world. Reckon Remus feels the same way-- unsure of how to protect you when no one ever truly has. But is it fair to shelter you away in order to that, or is that just another way to harm you, good intentions aside? A boy is only just a child, and a prison will only be just that."

Panic swept through Harry. How could he have forgotten? Mr. Weasley had seen; Dumbledore had spoken to him the day at The Burrow with the intruders. "I wouldn't, you know, hurt anyone like Professor Dumbledore said last time I was here," Harry said frantically.

The older wizard looked bewildered and cast a Silencing Charm, trying not to notice when Harry, eyes wide, watched his every move as if expecting to be stricken. "Harry, what conversation are you referring to?" He was growing very worried. "I don't know what you overheard, but the last time you were here Dumbledore merely spoke about a stray mutt you asked him to find named 'trustee'. Overall, I found it quite odd from the moment he spelled the curtains open, down to the fact that he held his wand out even while sipping his tea. I didn't question it then because I understood why having listened to Dumbledore would have made you run off. If that's not what you heard-…" Mr. Weasley drifted off, looking as confused as Harry felt.

"I-" Harry opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Dumbledore had been pushing him, too?

Mr. Weasley stood abruptly, waved his wand, and happily greeted Ron, who was blinking away sleep and apparently looking for his supposed roommate. Mrs. Weasley, wearing a striped night cap, followed closely behind.

Harry's hand fumbled for the Floo powder.

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At his return, Harry had acted as if nothing at all had happened. Everyone had readily accepted this, though Remus had locked himself in the bathroom while Harry had pretended to eat.

Harry was good at pretending. He knew how to hide it when he was hurt. Remus wasn't good at it. Not at all. Remus couldn't pretend to forgive himself like Dumbledore did. Harry saw, he knew the cause, and it hurt to see.

In fact, as Harry inched closer and closer to his new home, he was anxious and scared, hiding it by asking questions he would have never dared ask at Privet Drive. It made him remember where he was, that he was safe. "Why do we have to drive down, again?" Harry inquired as he fidgeted in his seat to fix his bum into a position that wasn't incredibly uncomfortable. He sat in the back, having been almost shoved into the polished leather back seat by Remus, who had then taken to sitting directly in front of him.

Bruster had raised his eyebrows before he had followed Remus' sour expression to Dumbledore.

"We have already discussed this, Harry; as soon as the manor senses foreign magic it will seal itself for an indefinite amount of time," Remus said tightly, his eyes never straying from the front.

In contrast to Harry (and maybe Remus), Dumbledore seemed quite delighted by their form of transportation, although he was no where near the level Mr. Weasley would have been.

"Why couldn't we get-- _I don't know_--nearer?" Harry said, frustrated that he had been stuck in a car for five hours straight as he watched Remus stare fixedly at the rear-view mirror, unnaturally tense. It was so unlike him that Harry was worried.

"Are you okay, Uncle Moony," Harry said, hoping the title would make Remus loosen up.

The car gave a tiny swerve to the right. Remus tensed further.

The driver, a young girl wearing a knitted bucket hat that went past her ears, hardly spoke a word, and when she did, her voice trembled. Harry had no idea what was wrong with her. Dumbledore sat in the passenger seat, commenting on how he had bought the 1965 Bentley they were in by some lucky chance and that it hadn't been until later that he had come upon the realization that he could not drive at all. "Splendid that I found you when I did…right in Diagon Alley as I was purchasing a most delightful pair of polka-dot -…"

"If you expected something of me all you had to do was ask," Remus said tersely to the Headmaster.

Bruster made Harry miss Dumbledore's response. "We're driving, lad, because we don't know where the boundary of the wards are. Magic can't interfere or threaten the manor's existence in any way or we'd be in for a wee bit of a nasty welcome."

The ten-year-old nodded, noticing that the car had grown quiet again and that Remus had relaxed just a bit. He squinted when he thought he saw a black mass briefly wove down and into the clouds; he chalked the sight up to a bird and turned his attention back to the rolling fields.

The rogue glanced at the boy and for just a second Harry thought he saw Bruce's eyes flick towards the clouds as well.

"_**BAM!" **_

Harry was jerked from his seat as the car bounced back at break-neck force; it hovered in the air for two seconds before settling on the ground with a soft 'thump'.

"Well, we have most definitely found it." Dumbledore smiled, eyes flickering towards Bruce and then at the car.

Bruce smirked as he jumped out, scratching the back of his ear.

Harry paid no mind to it, quite bewildered by the crash and shocked that the car hadn't been at least dented.

And as the rest of the adults climbed out and thanked the shy driver, Harry couldn't help but notice that Remus had been the last one out. With that, they all began the long walk down towards the empty plot of land. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if wizards were just a bit off. If he had suffered that car ride, he was going to walk until he saw a house! That was for sure.

"How old is this place anyway? I mean, isn't over a hundred years a bit much?" Harry said out of boredom when they had been walking for twenty minutes at the most.

Dumbledore coughed dramatically, clearing his throat at Harry's comment.

The green-eyed boy turned beet red, realizing that he had probably insulted the headmaster. _How old was he any way?!_ "Sorry, sir. I meant no offense. Obviously...more so than Lupin…like he…you know… "

"Quite right you are. Ah, and the manor is approximately 300 years old to date," Dumbledore said with a small chuckle and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Go on then, finish your sentence, Harry. I'm what less than Dumbledore?" Remus inquired with raised eyebrows and a playful tone to his voice.

Walking faster, Harry plucked a blade of grass. "Look, it's got roots and everything," announced Harry.

They laughed.

"Harry step right up," Dumbledore encouraged as he came to an abrupt stop. "We have arrived at our destination."

That's it; they _were_ all mad. They had stopped in front of a rotting tree stump! Harry was about to humor the man by inquiring about the harm the fungus could bring to the airways when Remus settled a hand on his shoulder, looking slightly shaken and staring at the log.

From Dumbledore's other side, Bruce nodded, looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "The wards are very powerful... Without me wand, I feel--this isn't good--a _Salutor Incruentatus._"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a second. "Yes, and what else do you feel? Being a wizard in my position makes it quite difficult to sense them without a handy Detection Charm."

"What does he mean?" Harry asked Remus in a whisper, feeling thoroughly confused.

"The headmaster has a certain responsibility to the wards of the castle, and Hogwarts has some of the most powerful wards the world has ever seen, which means that any home ward, even as secure as this one, feels insignificant to those," Remus answered just as quietly. Harry watched as Bruce put two hands just over the stump and shut his eyes.

After several minutes of concentration, Bruce spoke_, "Vestis Absconditus_, which explains why we can't see much of anything, _Experior Infidelis_, the loyalty ward, and a _Minuo Curator _ward, which are illegal because it's related to blood wards. This one isn't seeking blood though, it calls fer family almost like a welcome, bit threatening to the rest of us--can't say our heads would stay intact if we went any further." He smiled and finished, "On the bright side, the rest are minor and inconsequential ta gettin' in."

"Oh, yes," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, "_Minuo_ _Curator_ wards tend to take the personality of the family. Nearly killed Gilberta Teliwart back in the 60's when she was going door-to-door, soliciting her infamous Glamour-N-Glitter Shrunken Heads to those recluses down in Uglerforge Village. The _Salutor Incruentatus _might prove inconvenient as well."

"Bet a knut it will," Bruster exclaimed sarcastically. "The ward that bars everyone but the lad is '_inconvenient'_." The rogue crossed his arms.

Harry moved a step away from the trunk and Remus asked, "Precisely what does that mean?"

"He will be let inside and then he'll have ta know how ta get the rest of us in; if not, the lad will be stuck inside until we leave the boundaries, ensuring that the last living heir is safe."

"Very well," Dumbledore clasped his hands together cheerfully, "let us begin."

"Wait, what exactly am I doing?" Harry glanced over at Dumbledore, who was looking completely sure of himself.

"Not to worry, lad," Bruce jumped in, "just step right up on the stump and raise yer arms over yer head; when yer done with that, say, '_Age. Fac ut gaudeam__!'_

Dumbledore began to chuckle good-naturedly and Remus looked like he was trying very hard to keep a straight face. Harry felt like an idiot who had missed the punch line of a joke.

"He is not going to say, 'Go ahead. Make my day!_' _to the wards. For goodness sakes, be serious," Remus finally said in an exasperated voice.

Harry frowned and rolled his eyes, directing his attention towards the _highly_ acclaimed headmaster. "Sir, what do I have to do?"

"Simple really," said Dumbledore, "step past the tree stump and say these simple words: 'I am the last son, Harry James Potter.' It will not harm you. Our fears that the protections could be falling were premature, they have not yet deteriorated as far."

In a tone of unbidden trepidation the ten-year-old asked, "That's all?"

"Wards like these just feel your magic and sense your identity. And if you truly believe that we will do you no harm, we will be admitted into the manor as well," Remus said just a nervous.

"It will, however, take longer for us to get through, to ensure our intentions are pure and to readjust the warding on the manor," Dumbledore informed him.

Harry walked towards the stump and paused right before he went passed it. "Will it hurt?" He turned his head, not noticing when his fingers grazed the invisible barrier, and the young boy was instantly pulled towards the other side, vanishing from sight.

A barrier of pure magical energy ripped through the young wizard as the wards accepted him, his back arching as he was flung in mid-air. Harry couldn't see, he couldn't hear, but he didn't feel alone. Bracing himself, pushing the fear away, he spoke, "I am Harry James Potter, the last son." And he was.

There was something pulsing all around him, yet he didn't feel like he was anywhere, it was like a Portkey, a vortex that spun all around him, trickles just under his skin from his fingers to his toes. The tingling of his body began to subside and Harry heaved a sigh of relief as his feet landed on solid ground, little puffs of air ruffling his clothes and brushing the back of his neck. Harry had never felt anything like it. And as strange as it was, it felt cozy, like he was part of it.

Slower still, he started to hear the shifting of rocks, the slam of doors, the jiggle of handles, and the distinct lighting of flames. He took another deep breath, flexing his arms and smelling dust and a musky draft. Then everything became eerily silent and Harry realized that the only reason he still couldn't see was because he had kept his eyes firmly shut.

Feeling like an idiot, Harry opened his eyes. The young wizard gasped. The Roman coffered barrel vaulted ceiling, with rows of ionic columns, made the Entrance Hall look like the most amazing room he had ever seen (Hogwarts aside). The metal banister of the double stairs that lined the two parallel walls curved into the shapes of small family crests. The carpet, a red Persian, ran through the center of the large space, candles lit around the hall, and a crystal chandelier glittering as it held strange balls of light within jewel-like bulbs. Oil canvas paintings also lined the walls, looking so life-like that Harry wanted to touch every one of them to see if he could feel the steady wind that passed through the lush mountain landscapes.

Harry bent down, feeling the smooth natural stones of the floor. There were two arched doorways on both sides of the hall. Harry chose to go left, into a large dusty banquet room, tapestries hanging from a wall. He made an effort not to shriek when he spotted enchanted dusters and brooms cleaning by themselves. If he hadn't been to the Weasleys several dozen times, the young boy would have run for his life. Instead, he continued and threw open a set of oak doors.

The sound of a running faucet met his ears as he witnessed rags flinging themselves in the air, water spraying jets of water from the sink, and bubbles of soap from a wooden pail by the small kitchen table floated around the room as the filthy rags submerged themselves in the water to scrub away more of the grime. Magic was everywhere! Excited, Harry ran up to the next door, ending back up in the Entrance Hall and noticing the dustpans had moved in from the banquet room.

Grinning, Harry went through the second arched doorway across the hall, briefly noticing an open door to a fancy washroom right next to it, while being careful to avoid the cleaning supplies (which still looked just a bit creepy). He came upon a large Common Area, Palladian windows letting in the natural light, and white sheets currently folding away from comfortable antique furniture that had large comfy cushions. Harry thought he heard a soft wheeze from the fireplace, where a set of brass fire irons were being attacked by a very dedicated duster, letting out clouds of dust.

The next connecting room was completely bare, leaving Harry to wonder about what it had been meant to be. The room looked abandoned, lonely. Harry backed away, suddenly feeling the absence of the three older wizards and feeling very much alone.

Not as enthusiastic, Harry tried the front doors of the manor. They didn't budge. Resigned, the young boy crossed to the stairs, stopping just as he was about to take the first step. There was a small door under the stairs. Against his better judgment and feeling decidedly foolish, Harry neared the door, took a deep breath, and undid the latch. The door banged open and Harry stumbled in surprise before falling forward into the tiny, dark space. Harry screamed as he heard the lock on the door slide shut and a dark shadowy form rise from the corner.

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"Bloody hell," Bruce exclaimed as he entered the Manor through the front doors, golden handles having been polished ardently by a frayed rag.

Dumbledore advanced behind him, Remus in his wake. "This is not good," said the older wizard.

Remus looked around, his expression one of surprise. "How is it that the complete cleaning charms have been activated?"

"We have ta find him, and soon," asserted the rogue, running through the left doorway.

Dumbledore peered over the archway to the right, finding nothing. "It is registering Harry's magic as if he was a full adult, one who is particularly skilled."

Bruce came out of the left archway. "I'll take the stairs. Remus, take the right wing. The lad is being drained ta power these spells; as a child, he shouldn't have even been able ta light a bloody candle."

Remus took the steps two at a time.

Dumbledore drew his wand and said, "Point me, Harry." The wand jerked to the left, to one of the stairs. It wasn't until then that the older wizard noticed the smoke coming from a small door under the stairs. Alarmed, he moved as fast as he could, dispelling a flimsy Silencing Charm, and hearing the shrieks of pain from inside, along with the terrified pleas of a little boy.

"Harry…" The name escaped his lips, his twinkling eyes were now full of pain and desperation. "_Effringo_!" The small door slammed open with splintering force. "_Riddikulus_!" Dumbledore called. Then he saw it, a charred creature twitching on the floor, Harry trembling and coughing as smoke blew his way. A boggart was dying.

Seconds passed in shock as the dying creature disintegrated into a dust and Harry started to rock back in forth.

"Please…no…please, don't," the child whimpered.

"Harry?" Dumbledore called softly. "_Evanesco_," he spelled, making sure all of the smoke was cleared. "Harry, look at me."

"I don't want to say…please, oh, please don't make me," Harry begged, softer still.

"That was just a boggart who manifests into your greatest fear. Whatever your fear was, Harry, understand it was not real. Now, I do need you to come out. There are three very worried wizards inside the manor."

Harry looked up, still trembling, eyes glassy. "Only if you don't tell them... Don't tell, not to anyone."

"If I promise to keep the boggart a secret, may I check you for injuries with my wand?"

"No," Harry clarified, "don't tell them about them, the Dursleys, not anything about the cupboard. No one can know; you have to promise." The boy looked panicked and hastily added, "And the boggart, too. I didn't want anyone to see."

"Perhaps you should speak to your gua-…"

"Please, Sir!" Harry broke in, pulling his knees closer to his chest, desperate.

Dumbledore looked sad. "I give you my word." He moved forward, stretching out a hand. "Trust me, child."

Harry hesitated before grabbing the older wizard's hand and getting pulled out of the cupboard under the stairs. The headmaster checked Harry for any injuries and found none; though he had to cast a Calming Charm for fear that Harry would go into shock.

The youth's glassy eyes focused and he held his hand tighter. "No asking, please," said Harry blandly, his blank expression back on his face.

It pained Dumbledore.

"Harry!" Remus called from the stairs, Bruce right behind him.

"I'm okay." Harry smiled, his eyes looking strange.

"Ya must be exhausted, lad," said Bruce.

"No I'm not." Harry was confused.

All three stared.

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"Are you sure you want this one, Harry?" Remus asked as Harry walked into one of the smaller bedrooms.

Harry nodded, fingers grazing across a large Mahogany bureau in the corner, a four poster bed with a royal blue duvet, and an 18th Century Walnut Davenport desk full of quills and parchment. The young wizard walked excitedly to the window and peered out, his breath catching to see the back of Potter Manor, where something that looked like a pitch dominated the sight, even with the garden wall and herbaceous borders. A pond also lay on the border of clusters of lime trees, copper beeches, and giant cut-leaf beeches that stretched out amidst towering oaks as far as the eye could see. It was so amazing that Harry could hardly believe his eyes.

"It's quite the view, isn't it?" Remus said from the doorway, wearing a small, sad smile. "James always told me that therein lays the key to any woman's heart." The werewolf moved closer, looking out the window as well. "He was wrong. Lily, your mother, wouldn't even spare him a second glance until he could understand that." He smiled. "When they went into hiding, your father told us that the whole house could burn to the ground and he wouldn't beat an eye. Said he had found his home, and his son would never confuse the two like he once made the mistake of doing as a child."

"You never talk about him."

"No, I don't," Remus agreed. "I apologize."

Paying no mind to his apology, Harry walked over to an empty frame. "There weren't any pictures anywhere." The two wings of the house each held six bedrooms and four bathrooms, including an enormous library that was shared between both sides. Besides the decorations and personal collections, including untouched bedrooms, not one of them had housed any pictures.

"Your father placed them in his vault at Gringotts for safe keeping."

Harry turned around. "I never knew that." Looking past Remus, towards the doorway, Harry commented, "Bruster isn't here anymore."

"He's gone back to the flat; he bought it off of me. And the two of us have a few things to discuss."

Harry's expression turned defensive. "I don't want to talk."

"Tough luck, I suppose," Remus said calmly. "It's about time that we spoke, to clear away the events that led us to where we are." Remus took a deep breath." I never meant to hurt you, Harry, and I understand that it may be a while before you will trust me again, but I do want to assure myself that you will continue to speak to me when you're hurt or when you're harmed."

Frowning, Harry sat on the bed, eyes turned away from his guardian.

The older wizard continued, "When we found that glass in your back after what occurred at the Apothecary, I was alarmed about the extent that I mistreated you; that you would chose to not inform me of something of that nature. Worried wouldn't even begin to describe my thoughts of what happened there."

"Sorry," the boy said, his expression guarded.

"Just consider that perhaps you could have saved both of you from the glass."

That earned him a glare. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know, Harry," Remus sighed, digging a hand into his pocket, "but it occurred to me then that you have been faced with painful situations that you couldn't escape, that you had to withstand. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

The glare made no retreat.

Remus frowned and asserted, "No one here who has been entrusted with your safety would intentionally harm you; I wish you'd understand that."

Reddening with shame, Harry's face fell, his hand toying with the edge of the duvet. "I know…it's just hard. It's me, really. I-" Harry paused, and shook his head.

Letting the topic drop with a lingering feeling of regret, Remus asked, "Do you recall when I told you that you were going back to the Weasleys for tomorrow afternoon through the Floo and-…"

"You told me you'd tell me why," Harry prompted.

"Yes, I intend to keep to my word." Remus met Harry's serious eyes, the blank mask present on the young boy's face. It seemed like they had regressed Harry's progress several months back. What was he to do with the child?

It hurt Remus to know that he and most likely anyone else would never be able to break Harry's walls completely. Days, especially at the start, with Mind Healer Watson had been full of entire hours at a time where Harry would space out, withdrawing into himself where no one could reach him, especially memories.

It was a scary sight to see a child so hurt and tormented by his own life that sometimes the questions asked by his healer could risk breaking free some horrible trauma that Harry could probably never cope with. Healer Watson believed that the boy had retreated to the same blank state when he had been subjected to something horrifically unimaginable at the Dursleys, hurt so mind-shattering and heart breaking that few could imagine. And Harry had learned to magically erase entire days from his mind so that he would never recall them ever again.

Rubbing his temple against his thoughts, the older wizard got back on track. "This is a secret between Bruce, Dumbledore, you, and I; you must promise not to tell anyone, Harry. We have someone that needs our help, and his life is dependant upon our ability to keep it the utmost secret."

"I promise," Harry readily agreed.

"When you were around fifteen months of age, your parents were betrayed-- a betrayal that cost them their lives and almost yours. A friend framed a man your father considered almost a brother. That man was sent to prison…and to this very day he is locked up inside one of the most horrible prisons in the world for a crime he never committed." Remus saw Harry's hands fist, the boy's jaw hardening with anger for the person who had taken so much from him.

He remained silent.

"Besides the word of a werewolf for my testimony on my friend's character," Remus continued, hands digging into his pockets, "there was nothing I could do; there was no way they would listen to my pleas."

"That's horrible," Harry said, his small voice sounding strong, firm at the injustice.

"This man, Sirius Black, was…_is_ your godfather to this day," said Remus. "He would have taken you against everyone's wishes and raised you himself had he not been taken; of that I am sure." Remus took a few moments to gather his thoughts. "We, that is to say, Bruce and I, will break him out tomorrow whilst you are at the Weasleys."

This got Harry's full attention and the boy blinked.

Remus smiled before getting serious again. "There are, however, some factors you must understand when he gets here. Ground rules that are to be set as precautionary measures to make sure that Sirius recovers from his ordeal and that none of us are adversely affected by unforeseen damage to his…state."

"So you're not sure if he's mad?" the young wizard said bluntly.

"Well…" the older man worded carefully, "it's rather more complicated than madness…it's more having to do with coping with the changes. He will no longer have to crouch in a cell; yet abrupt changes like that will not come as easily as we had hoped them to be. Sirius has to come to terms with the fact that he missed out on eight years of his life, of yours and mine, of the entire world growing up and moving on past the war without him."

"Oh..." That hadn't even occurred to Harry. It seemed that Remus had been thinking about this for a long time.

Remus felt guilty, knowing what his best friend would have done, knowing that Sirius would have kept his godson safe. "Harry, I feel the need to clarify my part in leaving you with your relatives."

"Don't," Harry warned. "I know what you're going to say and I don't want to talk about it-- it won't change anything."

"Harry, it is very important that we understand each other if we are to live together. Professor Dumbledore covered up my files at the ministry, specifically the ones that proclaim me a werewolf." Remus dug his hands deeper into his pocket and sighed. "You would be taken from more if they ever found out, and there is nothing that would change that."

Harry turned away at the last words, body tense.

The man's expression was pained. "To the ministry and to most of the wizarding world, I am but a creature, an animal that will harm them. They loathe me just on that fact alone." Looking sadder yet, Remus met Harry's eyes, seeing a strange sort of understanding there. "It is difficult to see past that and to adjust to a situation where taking care of myself is not only a requirement but has to go along with learning to not withdraw myself from the world. But I do promise that I am trying my hardest to help this arrangement work."

"Yeah…I'll try, too," said the young boy with determination, opting to not question Remus on the specifics on how he was getting his godfather out. Harry was very worried that something would go completely wrong and that he would be left all alone, but only babies voiced things like that. And normal boys didn't worry about being tossed into an orphanage.

Remus moved to hug him but Harry looked wary, afraid. He feigned not noticing and held the stiff boy to his chest, damming the Muggles, loathing himself.

Cautiously, Harry lifted his arms and tightened the embrace, touch-starved as always but so afraid to trust enough to accept it, to reveal how badly he desired to know he wasn't an undeserving freak he had been told he was. Touch to Harry was a privilege he had never been allowed before. And it would probably never be allowed again if Remus didn't come back, if he was taken to prison too, or if he decided that being on the run like those bandits in the telly that his cousin used to watch was much better than being near Harry.

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It was sundown the next day, Harry already assumed at the Weasleys, when Bruce pulled a heavy red brick from the pouch around his waist. "Bloody criminals! Buffoons gave me a brick to lug around." The rogue offered the Portkey to Remus. "Make sure ta stay behind me and put up a shield as soon as we land."

Remus opened his mouth to question the ludicrous instructions but he was firmly grabbed and whisked away without warning.

"Expelliarmus!" someone growled, aiming at Bruce and hitting Remus' shield instead when they had touched solid ground. Remus cast the shield again in confusion, noticing the sway that indicated he had landed on some kind of ship. That and they had an audience that was entertaining themselves by watching Bruce duel.

The Order members weren't wearing the black garbs and concealing hoods that Remus had grown accustomed to seeing them wear. Instead, they either seemed to be randomly vying to support their own nationalities, or in the unfortunate cases of others, violently displaying their rather _colorful _personalities.

To Remus' utter shock, Mad-Eye Moody himself stepped out of the fray, wand pointed at Bruce's chest as he disarmed the rogue in one swift motion.

"Damn, old codger would be rich if he had a Knut for every time he aimed his wand at someone," a voice from the upper deck said humorously.

Bruce grinned. While lying on the ground with a wand aimed at his heart by a mad Auror!

"Your dueling needs some work, lad," the limping, grizzly man commented.

"Fantastic. To hear those same words from nearly twenty years ago be repeated now." Bruce said sarcastically, though his face lit up in a grin.

The rough and severely scarred hand reached down to assist the rogue in standing. "Stick to warding, boy," said Mad-Eye Moody.

"See? This man did wonders for me self-confidence," Bruster addressed a feminine silhouette cloaked in shadow.

The woman moved forward, casting a glamour that seemed to morph onto her face like moving grains of sand that then solidified before stepping out into the light, her golden mask looking medieval on her face, dark skin was revealed as she moved her curly dark strands of hair to cover her neck "Mad-Eye, you know Mr. Lupin, do you mind showing him around? I have to snatch Lorcan here for a private matter." Her British accent wasn't refined, but her strong voice voiced no query that her question was a command.

"Very well, not like I have anything remotely useful to do," Moody growled. He glared at Remus. "I remember you, Lupin; I'll be watching to see you don't get one on me. I may have aged, but my skills are plenty sharp," he warned gruffly.

Remus nodded dumbly, quite aware that he was still a little startled by the fact that there was a familiar face from the first war in the Knight's company.

"I don't trust many, Lupin; you'll do well to remember that. There's no possible way I'd be able to tell it was you. I suppose I'll have to chance it for now," he allowed grudgingly, his eyes riveted on Remus' every movement.

Remus followed as the Auror began to walk. Off to the side, a man of a smaller build was wearing a Samurai mask, his hair in a crop and brown eyes watching them both as they made it to the forecastle deck at the front of the ship. Dark sea surrounded them completely.

Mad-Eye began to speak, being careful to stay behind Remus, "Vextra knows her charms and she packs a pretty mean kick, nothing technical, just learned to use her strength to survive." He looked back, signaling to Remus that the woman with the golden mask had been Vextra.

"Speck is new, French girl, potion's mistress, you get the picture. Could use help in defense but has a knack for pretty nasty means of offense that one. She comes from one of the older lines."

A witch with a slanted bob cut highlighted in strands of alternating black and blond, wore a sleeveless robe with a witch's hat hanging low on her back as she stirred a steaming cauldron. When she turned her head, Remus caught sight of a blushing porcelain mask that one would see in the French Quarter.

Remus greeted her with a nod.

Mad-Eye continued on as if he wasn't even there, though his electric blue eye was still trained on only him. "Got just a few more up and coming members that are waiting clearance by Bruce," the severely scarred Auror said.

Minutes later, Bruster ran up behind them, draining two potions and putting the empty bottles back into his mole-skin pouch, while the robed man who had been wearing the Samurai mask from before stalked past them.

"Ah, Dai!" Bruce called cheerfully. "Did you miss us, ya happy fella?"

"With bated breath," the voice said dryly, not bothering to even make eye contact.

"Sometimes we call that boy Herochi, but the Order wanted something shorter and he forbid them from calling him Chi, said they would die. Well, change the spelling around, and they got a perfectly respectable Japanese name, eh, Dai?" said Mad-Eye in his most intimidating growl. "Hope the new recruit has something better than that Karayatee rubbish up his sleeve.

The Asian man growled and turned back around, confronting Mad-eye. "You assume that just because I am of Asian decent, that I should be an expert of martial arts?" the man asked blandly. "I'll have you know, you ignorant excuse for law enforcement, that not only were you referring to the Muggle Chinese art of 'Karate' but that we, like your own government, have adapted our centuries old practices in many arts."

"Throw a spell or two while in mid-air and send them to interfere in our ministry," Mad-Eye growled back.

"Not this again," someone grumbled from below deck in a wheeze.

"I like swords; that's the end of it," Dai said. "I am good with enchanting weapons. You however, are good at getting scars and violating alliances that were worked on for decades."

"Your men were in the way of our work; if your government wanted to pull them out before they discovered they were way over their heads, we would have gleefully allowed it."

"Your own leader falsified the reports and made it seem like you barely needed assistance. We sent our newest recruits hoping to give them experience!! And what did we get back!!" Dai hissed, furious.

"Corpses," responded Mad-Eye as Bruce and Remus followed the exchange. "Lies from our own leader as well..."

Dai blinked, unprepared for the less hostile Auror. "Yes, death… All because your government didn't clarify how perilous the situation was!"

"I suppose we were misinformed on both sides," Moody allowed grudgingly.

Dai narrowed his eyes at the Auror before stalking off.

"Charmer, that one," Bruce said.

"I see that," Remus responded.

Another cloaked male form approached, spiky black hair spilling from the front of his lowered hood as he clapped Bruce on the shoulder and took on a very serious expression.

"Greetings, _gentlemen_." The man's face was set into a tight, forced politeness, his hand outstretched as if the action pained him. He wore a small leather half mask that looked like it had come from some type of theatrical bandit costume.

Bruster erupted in a bout of coughs.

"Hello," Remus responded politely, raising an eyebrow at Bruce before taking the hand.

A noise sounding suspiciously like a laugh was emitted between tight lips, and then the man's mouth twitched upwards as if ballooning.

"Are you okay?" Remus asked. Mad-Eye narrowed his eyes.

The man roared in laughter. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist!" He was laughing hard. "Hey, my friends call me Croxley." He said in an upbeat American voice. "Come on buddy, I was just fooling around," he told the werewolf.

"Pleasure to meet you," Remus said amused, looking back to see that the man Dai was currently aiming his bow at the newcomer's back before Vextra forced his arm down with what could have been a glare.

"Don't let his gruff demeanor fool ya, Lupin," Bruster said, indicating Dai. "He's quiet most of the time and decent enough when he's not in his serious moods."

Dai ignored them all and went to sit at a back stool, picking up a mortar and pestle and crushing eucalyptus leaves inside with great fervor.

"He means we're all stressed out…" Croxley said in a chipper tone.

"Croxley, we need you to open this latch for us. Strange runes on the padlock," Vextra said from across the ship.

"I'll be there in a sec," the younger man called back through the sound of rolling ocean waves. He walked away, waving goodbye.

"He's the new lad," Mad-Eye said, "technology and puzzle man for sure, Yankee obviously."

A strong wind blew at the sails and Remus shivered. "It's freezing."

"Just a bit of a sea breeze, friend," a friendly, slightly ragged, voice came from behind him. Disguised, the only thing Remus could identify the man by was he was older than any other member he had met so far, due to the fact that, from the back, Remus could see curly dark gray hair. The man was wearing brown robes with a rustic wooden mask, two small eye holes carved into the grainy finish that also had a hand-painted red frown.

"Hendrick, how're ya?" Bruce greeted.

"Perfectly decent, Bruce," the man answered. He tossed Remus a potato sack full of black robes and a golden mask much like Vextra's. "Put it on; it'll help keep the cold at bay," the man named Hendrick said kindly.

"I usually put on me own when we get nearer," Bruster informed him as Remus threw on the black robes and stowed away the mask.

"Me as well, my good chap," an above average height elder form came out from the ship's cabin. He had on the most bizarre falcon mask Remus had ever seen, feathers and all.

"What's he today, Vextra?" Croxley asked casually from where he was sitting cross-legged on the deck, enchanting tools to pick at a lock as he waved his sturdy Jack Pine wand in circular movements.

Speck laughed and answered before her, "Horus, I think."

"The Egyptian god of the sky," the elder man supplied pleasantly, his voice friendly and strong.

"I burned his feathered wings at breakfast," Dai said, placing the mortar and pestle back near Speck, the Potion's mistress.

"You didn't," Speck challenged in disbelief, a smirk in her voice.

"I'll take my galleons now, Vextra." The Asian man extended a weathered hand.

"That's rather pointless." Speck commented as she observed the exchange, getting behind a boiling cauldron and casting 'Protego'. She glanced at both Dai and Vextra, a clearly agitated pair, and challenged, "If you hex me, the potion will be ruined in its most crucial state.

Chuckling, the wizard with the falcon mask approached Remus, shaking his hand and clasping the werewolf's forearm in a familiar manner. "Pleasure to meet you, Remus Lupin. Go by Grendal here. My good boys and girls have treated you decently, I hope?"

Puzzled, Remus looked around before he realized the older wizard was speaking about the rest of the order. He was met with humorous glances--Bruce was grinning.

"Vextra, isn't that the one you coined 'The Eejit'?" Vextra managed to keep her easy grace even as she covered the potion's mistress' mouth.

"I don't know what you're referring to, Speck. I believe," Vextra looked around, "as do the rest of us, that you have no idea what you're talking about."

Unruffled, the blond with the bob cut dislodged the hand over her mouth. "Vextra, remember the bangers I gave you this morning?" the young woman said in a fluent English voice that puzzled the werewolf.

Grendal answered his unasked question. "They have mastered several languages," said Grendal fondly. "It is useful for what we do."

"Weird, isn't?" said Croxley.

"A bit," Remus trailed off as he watched Grendal follow Dai inside the ship.

"--a glamour potion with a word trigger…" Speck finished saying, once again gaining Remus' attention and making him wonder if he had ever met the Black witch before. Vextra seemed oddly familiar to him.

In a dismissive voice, Vextra let go of Speck and patted the girl on her blushed ceramic cheek, "See, no harm done. Just a mistake."

"You might want to check below anyway," the potion's mistress snickered, "might have accidentally said that word around mid-afternoon."

Vextra glared at her.

"Why did you lot agree to this?" Remus asked Croxley, eyes still fixed on the two witches.

"Bruce was set on it and we needed something from Azkaban," the younger man responded.

"And that is?" Remus inquired.

Vextra turned, her hazel eyes hard. "You're a very curious man... We won't tell you, of course;" she narrowed her eyes, "however, we did dig up some rather interesting records on both of you." She walked away.

"She's a bit of a control freak," Croxley commented, "slight case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, too. I'd say she was bipolar but I don't particularly want to die today." He put a hand on Remus' shoulder. "Let me translate," he cleared his throat, "we think you guys, meaning your buddy Padfoot and yourself, could be good friends of ours. This, in turn, could build some pretty great alliances." He patted the werewolf's shoulder before following Vextra.

"Building an army so soon?" said Remus with his brow furrowed.

Hendrick started to laugh, followed by more guffaws. "I never thought of it in the Muggle sense."

"Hey!" Croxley yelled back, having been still listening. "I have. You can say we're Special Forces or something. One that frees incarcerated men from heavily guarded prisons." He trailed after Vextra.

Mad-Eye frowned, Remus just noticing that the old Auror was still standing next to him and Bruce. "His incarceration never sat right with me," said Moody. "I know criminals, I've seen them, and they sure as hell aren't pretty boys like Sirius Black. No, I reckoned since the beginning that something was off with that Pettigrew boy, always down right terrified in my presence-- and the laugh Black made as he was carted off, been close to that one myself a few times."

"Really," said Remus, "and when was that?"

"When I was near fooled and bested by the enemy and I had everything to lose." The grizzly Auror's voice could only be described as a low growl.

"If that Death Eater Lucius can get off on galleon alone," Mad-Eye continued, "then I say Black's death should be off the market to be bought. Justice should suit the rest of the criminals just fine."

Moody narrowed his one beady eye, the other vivid blue zooming in like a scope to his pocket watch, looking right through the casing and his own cloak.

"Mad-Eye," Bruce said, "are ya coming with us?"

"Nah, too conspicuous," Moody responded, "Just here to report my part in this is done. They'll be no available Auror even near enough to disrupt you folks."

"Still training away?" Bruce asked.

"They'll retire me soon, have my word on that," Moody announced, "been tryin' to train as many as I can and we just got a few new recruits. Have one as klutzy as the day she was born; should prove a challenge that one."

"I bet." Bruster smiled.

"Oh, and do try not to die," Mad-Eye added as an afterthought.

Bruce smirked. "Ya say it like it's easy."

Moody snorted before he limped a few steps, looking paranoid once more, before he twirled and Apparated.

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After the Auror's departure, a tense silence fell over the Order. It was broken by the wizard wearing the rustic mask. "Drum roll!" Hendrick said cheerfully, causing Croxley to jump slightly as a trinket he had been working on lost a spring and hit him in the eye. Hendrick continued as if nothing had occurred, "Our young Potion's mistress is the one and only creator of Droxycide."

Speck groaned, taking her pointed witch's hat and pulling it over her head, pretending to continue to transfer the potion in her cauldron into large vials.

The robed figures laughed.

"Very impressive, eh?" Hendrick said seriously.

"Do shut up; I was ten and one of the little buggers almost bit me!"

"This one is better," Dai added, "'Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover'.

"You're joking," said Vextra, from where she had been reading an old tome on the upper deck.

The group turned their heads towards the younger witch and Speck nodded.

Boards trembled at the roar.

"That's it! I'm putting poison in the water supply." Speck stomped off, her sleeveless black robes trailing behind her.

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An hour later, all joking was put aside as the haunting sight of Azkaban came into view, the ship speeding right towards it at full mass. "Speck, the vials now," Grendal commanded, gone was the playful old man, replaced with a wizard that exuded strength.

Speck grabbed vials filled with the Bliss potion from before and threw them in an arch around the ship, eight vials in total that exploded as they hit the water. A film formed a barrier on the water itself before it sizzled and the water began to boil, waves ceasing in the ocean and growing still all around them as golden smoke rose from the water and created a transparent wall. "The experiment worked boys and girls; we're not going to die!" Speck announced excitedly.

The statement was met with glares towards Grendal, who had very cleverly left out the fact that the Potion's mistress had never even tried the potion before.

"Isn't that nice," Hendrick said in a breathless voice.

"No matter! Let us make a large crater, shall we?" Grendal said kindly, lifting his wand.

"Little to the right," Croxley said, hand absentmindedly waving over a scribbling parchment. "You were about to hit the Commons. He's in a special security ward, which fortunately has more spaced out cells.

"_DEPRIMO!_" Grendal's white robes glistened in the moonlight, his gnarled birch wand held between two wrinkled and liver spotted fingers. Seconds later, just when Remus was beginning to think that nothing would happen, a loud, booming explosion tore a side straight off Azkaban. Rocks fell to the roaring ocean below and a screeching, chilling sound came from inside of the ancient stone walls.

"_DESIGNO_!" Croxley shouted, directing his wand in a spin and pointing it right at the destroyed wall. A glowing red line slashed through the floor, leading into the prison and right at a cell, a cell that happened to cage Sirius Black.

"Dai, now!" Vextra yelled through the noise.

As hard as he could Dai said, "_FERRUM VORO!_"The Byzantine sword that had previously been at his feet flickered out of existence and the man raised his wand and jerked it forward. A ghostly form blasted out of the end of it and headed towards the small rocky island. "Four feet radius, no further or you'll end up splinched," he told Bruce. "That's as far as the enchantment is capable of ripping a hole through the prison wards."

It wasn't until a howling whistle sounded that Remus saw it was the sword he had previously seen, now firmly planted in the ground of the island.

"Brooms, Hendrick, Speck. Find it; Croxley should direct you," Vextra ordered. She turned to Bruce and Remus, "Go get him." Her attention swiveled to Dai, "We'll be defending their collective arses."

"Aren't we always?" He Disapparated within three feet of the blade and Vextra did the same. Dementors swarmed, an icy fog drifting out of the prison. When a robed Dai pulled the sword out, the screeching increased, the blade glowing white as the Dementors that had stormed out were forced back. He dug daggers out of his robes and slammed them into the ground next to him as Vextra called forth her hyena Patronus and directed it towards a group of three flying Dementors.

Behind them, Bruce and Remus Apparated, bringing forth their own Patroni as Speck threw vials full of home-made Dementor poison at the angry creatures, her broom aimed towards the lower rocks of the prison, following in Hendrick's wake.

The group worked in sync, actions feeding off each other without even having a command said.

Vextra faltered as two Dementors came up behind her, Dai aimed his glowing Kishu breed dog at the prison guards, sending them high into the sky, while Remus and Bruce were pushing past them on foot and sending their own silvery Patroni inside the prison. A shaggy, emaciated dog was staggering towards the outside as the two men had to get back-to back to cast their Patroni again and defend the animagus. Shouts and screams shook the prison walls as other captors pleaded for freedom.

That's when Remus spotted a swarm of Dementors floating behind Sirius as the dog fell and yelped. Remus ran in without a second thought, Bruce casting a powerful ward down the hall that caused the Dementors to slam into it, shrieking in anger. It sent waves of despair in the air and Bruce was shaking violently, struggling to keep the barrier up as Remus picked Padfoot up and recast his Patroni, leaving it to give Bruce some time as he followed.

By the time Remus was approaching the destructed hall, following the red line on the floor straight out, Hendrick and Speck were already carrying a debris covered chest between them and flying back towards the swaying ship. The Bliss potion had lost control of the water and was slowly dissipating into the air currents. Large ocean swells were rocking the ship to compensate for the amount of time that the potion had worked.

**"**_EXURO**!**_**"** Vextra and Dai casts together, walls of flame entwining after coming out of their wands and setting the cloaked Dementors on fire. They fell like swatted flies down to the rocks below, their screams sounding evil, unnatural.

"Fecking shite, Remus; I can't hold it much longer while tryin' to get out meself." Bruce had made it half the way Remus had, wand jerking violently as he grasped it with two hands. The Dementors has tripled in amount at the holding barrier and their efforts to get through were getting more violent, icicles starting to form at the edges of the ward. "Get to the daggers and go home, make sure to be no further then one foot away," Bruce shouted through barred teeth.

Remus glared down at the dog. "All this trouble for you, mate." The dog moved a paw over an eye and whined. Remus ran faster towards the exit, where Vextra and Dai continued to strike down the zealous prison wardens.

Then, Speck and Croxley returned on brooms to defend their comrades, Hendrick staying with Grendal to ward off the Dementors that were getting too close to the ship. "Hey, Speck!" Croxley called after taking down a line of dementors with a huge reptilian Patronus. "Spill on isle two"

"Go to hell, Croxley!" Speck fired back

"Gladly, sweetheart." Croxley winked, face breaking out into a grin, before he brought his arm up as if swinging punch and threw a Blasting hex at approaching Dementors.

From the ship, just as Remus was about to Apparate, he saw the gray-haired wizard, Hendrick, send out a Moose Patronus.

"_**BOOM**_!"

Bruce's shield came down, letting out a loud blasts, as the man sprinted out of the prison and Apparated as soon as his foot had hit the planted the dagger. He and the dagger disappeared. Remus closely followed with Padfoot in his arms, getting one last glance at the Knights as they too made a fast retreat.

Hundreds of Dementors flew out of the prison right behind them and screeched as they crashed into the golden wall that was defending the ship. The ship was sinking into the water and somehow everyone had made it inside, the golden barrier Speck had created was letting out wisps of vapor that drifted off into the night. The Dementors were left to watch the escape.

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Harry sat on the stairs, staring at the front doors. His godfather would come out of those doors any second. The young wizard had disregarded Remus' instructions to stay the night with the Weasleys again, making himself a burden on the already large family. Harry had chosen to not go at all, and to let the fact _slip_ his mind so that Remus didn't argue that he shouldn't stay alone—as if Harry hadn't been left on his own before in his life!—and then the young wizard had penned a letter saying that Remus had changed his mind, sending it to the Weasleys through the Floo the way Dumbledore had once showed him.

A clever plan overall, brilliant at first, had turned out to be both boring and frightening. Harry's eyes kept swiveling towards the storage cupboard, where the creature, a boggart, had been. The young boy shut his eyes, refusing to even let his thoughts travel in that direction. He couldn't even remember what had happened—one second he had known something was in there with him, a second later Dumbledore had pulled him out and there had been the smell of burning flesh. Why did his head hurt when he tried to remember? He wrapped his bunched up duvet tighter around himself and rested his head against the cool metal of the railing on the stairs, his finger tracing over his family crest.

He dozed off.

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Harry stretched out, pulling the warm duvet over his head and burying his face in the pillow on his bed. Wait…he was in a _bed_. Remus was back!

Throwing off the covers and slipping on his trainers, Harry ran out of his room and just as he was about to step out into the hall he heard two arguing voices.

"I told you we were in the area!"

An American voice.

"What use was that bloody weapon if it we're frozen just after finding that the field we were in just happened to be a mansion?"

The other voice sounded very familiar to Harry.

"It's the manor's protections. They fooled us and then trapped us in place when it thought we were a threat."

Harry sneaked out at the end of the hall, squinting down the stairs and finding two men frozen mid-step with only their eyes and mouths able to move. It was like their limbs were filled with solid iron. One of them was Healer Watson's husband, the one that Harry could distantly remember seeing at the flat when his magic had gotten out of control.

"Crap!" the younger one, a bloke who couldn't have been more than twenty, wore black pants and a bright yellow T-shirt with the words 'SECRET NERD!' across his chest. Harry smiled and noticed the guy's dark spiky hair tousled towards the front. Aunt Petunia had called it the ridiculous rooster cut and had turned her nose up at all slogan T-shirts. Naturally, Harry had immediately taken a liking to both.

"What?" the stocky healer asked, his eyes widening beneath his spectacles. His leather medicine bag was still clasped in his frozen hand.

"You see that glowing ball of light on the chandelier?" said the younger man.

"Croxley, if this is some joke about not looking into the light-..." the older man said sternly.

Harry laughed, clasping his hands over his mouth.

"What was that?" the healer asked.

"Someone is laughing at us, Doc. I'd like them to know that if someone who lives here doesn't clear us, the manor is going to unload a century of bodily pain at the friendly visitors." The knowing blue eyes of the younger man came to rest on Harry's location. Harry hadn't known that the manor could do _that_!

Luckily, he was saved from having to make any decision by Remus and Bruce, who were rushing down the opposite staircase.

"Welcome, both of you, to Potter Manor," Remus said in a rush.

Both men that had been frozen were immediately released from the bind, the chandelier looking as normal as always.

Remus looked worried. "He couldn't hold his form any longer; he may have gone into shock. He doesn't look well." The healer instantly looked more serious, following Remus up the flight of stairs as Bruce and the man named Croxley stared after them.

"You know, I learned something new today," Croxley said.

"Did ya really?" Bruce asked.

"I learned that Harry Potter is a rebel," Croxley responded easily with a grin, staring right at where Harry was hidden.

"Hmm…didn't he kinda have t' be? He did take a stand to not dyin' when one of the most darkest spells aimed ta murder him," Bruce said nonchalantly,

"I guess..." Croxley shrugged. "Though he wasn't supposed to be here at all today," Croxley said casually while Harry was still in his hiding spot and debating whether to get back to his room.

"Go ahead and come down, lad," Bruce called.

"Give him a break; what if he's scared. You know, I can be a very intimidating ma—son of a female dog!-…" The man jumped as he yelped in pain and flung away a coin that was glowing red. It had been in his trouser pocket. "Ouch!" he cried. "I am going to kill him…" he whined as he covered the burnt spot with his hand.

"Yes…very intimidating." Bruce was laughing.

Harry tried—he really did—not to laugh. He failed horribly.

"Yes, the lad also seems thoroughly intimidated," Bruce added.

"I agree, sir, the coin looks very dangerous," Harry said seriously from his new place next to the now normal looking coin, having decided earlier that he might as well face the music. There was no way he wouldn't have come down after being told that he was scared!

"See? The kid agrees," Croxley said, looking less pained and standing upright. "But I'll probably have about zero remaining self-esteem if he doesn't stop calling me 'sir' in the next five seconds." He turned his attention towards Harry, extending a hand, "I'm Croxley."

"Hello," Harry said back, taking the man's hand and looking down at the coin again. "What was on it, Croxley?"

"Enchanted to be able to tell if I'm saying the truth or not. A friend by the name of Dai forgot to tell me that it not only turns red if I lie, it burns through your own sensitive flesh. Told me I needed it in case you people got paranoid."

"As interesting as watching ya lot speak is, I'm ready ta watch the evidence go up into figurative flames," Bruce told both of them, going through the right doorway and into the bare room that Harry was still very curious about. Oh, and Croxley, give me a relatively intelligent answer as ta why Vextra allowed ya to walk about unmasked…"

Croxley cleared his throat and started smartly, "It's a slight technicality." He smirked. "Vextra _specifically_ said: 'fix up the felon, burn up evidence, destroy any traces to the Daha spell on Dai's blades, and get back.' You see, nowhere in that _slightly_ veiled order was there a 'do it all while wearing your stuffy mask'."

"Insufferable eejit," said Bruce as he pulled out his mahogany wand and tapped the floor three times.

The floor made a noise like shifting stones and all the walls glowed with swirling blue runes.

"What are they," Harry asked, fascinated.

"This, Harry, is a very special room," Bruce said as he examined a round circle right at the center of the room. This is the one room where even if ya did concentrate amazing levels of power at any point, it'll not send the wards crashing down or even go through the very walls," he tapped the bland white space with his fingers. "It's had that purpose fer centuries, though not as focused. It was yer father, as I found out by examining the tomes he asked me for, that modified it and made it absolutely one of it's kind—no limitations on space, mood, or even creativity."

Harry smiled, excited. Croxley looked slightly put out, like someone had just gotten a better toy.

"It not only has magical purpose, however. It's an all-purpose room. And I found how ta get one of them. Think about something you want and-… " Bruce was interrupted by a loud slurping noise.

Croxley paused, noticing he was being stared at while in mid-slurp. His bright orange juice box was promptly squeezed for any possible remaining drops before he spoke. "What?" he asked. Reclining, he placed his boots up on a red settee that the room had summoned. "I get thirsty, so I make sure to have enough fluids." He looked over at Harry. "It's not easy being me…" Croxley laughed, it had apparently been a joke.

Bruce glared. "I sometimes wonder why I approved ya younglings."

"It's because I'm a genius," Croxley declared, it wasn't even a boast, just a statement of fact. Getting up, waving his wand, and vanishing the empty juice box, Croxley reached into his pocket and pulled out two tiny shrunken juice boxes and offered one to Harry.

"No, thanks," Harry said. "So, who are you? Bruster seems to know you," Harry said casually, reminiscent of the way he had asked Bruce to tell him about himself.

Bruster grinned.

Harry's emerald eyes looked up expectantly at the wizard with the spiky hair.

Croxley considered the question. "How much do you already know?"

"Not much," Harry admitted.

"Bruce, are you sure you Europeans identify this kid as the—oh, so creative—Boy-Who-Lived? He's way too honest to be famous."

Bruce pointed at the center of Harry's head. "Quite sure," the rogue said.

"Cool! It's like lightning." Harry tried not to roll his eyes at the man's childish voice.

"Croxley, you're changing the subject on purpose," Harry said, aware that he didn't feel like Croxley was any threat at all.

"Hey! You know what'd be way funner—I swear they should make that a word—than asking questions? Watching Bruce blow something up before showing us the rest of this room's neat tricks." Croxley walked towards the center, "Off you go, Bruce," he encouraged.

During Harry and Croxley's exchange, Bruce had set up the tree daggers in the center of the room and now he was currently chanting under his breath, removing the enchantments and making it impossible to trace. "It's done," he announced.

Croxley pouted. "That was anti-climactic. I wanted to see flames… and mostly I wanted to see Dai's daggers blasted to smithereens."

"Right." Bruce said dismissively. "Anyway, I found that if I touch this exact spot, the room turns into this."

If Harry had blinked he would have missed a huge platform suddenly appearing in the center of the room. "What is it?" Harry asked breathlessly.

"Training room for dueling and spell work," the rogue answered.

"I read some of the runes before you changed them and I think I found another one, too. Can't be sure what it does though; the summoning runes on this one were some I couldn't recognize at first glance," Croxley announced ponderingly. It was like not knowing something bothered him.

"Give it a go," said Bruster, as curious as Harry.

"This one is more of a stroke on this line down here." Croxley slid his hand down the door frame and the training room disappeared.

That's when the piano ballad started, a fog started to form on the floor, the ceiling looked like stars, a white-clothed dinning table materialized near a corner, and with a horror Harry saw a red heart-shaped bed appear right in the middle of it all.

Croxley froze at the sight of the new scenery. "I'm going to die today…Crap, I told her to wait for me at the hotel and what if she didn't?" He grabbed Bruce. "What do you do to make up for being," he looked down at his watch and moaned in despair, "three hours late for an anniversary dinner?" He pulled and tore at the rogue's cloak, panicked and as white as a sheet. "I'm gonna die, aren't I? There's just no way…I'm so young. Oh, what if she threw all my things out…no, no, no, she probably set a trap to behead me…and the ring! Did she sell it? Am I alone for the rest of my life?" Harry was frozen in his place, halfly amused and completely frozen by the bizarre situation.

Bruce was struggling not to laugh in the younger man's face.

Croxley paused and then he looked horrified. "Do you think that she'd understand that my favorite broom is a relic and should never, under any circumstances, be destroyed?"

Bruce looked down pityingly at the younger man and grabbed his shoulder. "Not even a wee bit."

"So, begging and groveling for the next few years," Croxley said miserably.

"Yes. Now, go home and hope it's still yers to sleep in," said Bruce.

At the last three words, Remus came into the room. "Bruce?" he paused when he saw the room's decor and raised an eyebrow at the two men, drifting off, "-have you seen Ha-…" Remus spotted Harry. "Oh, there he is, just getting traumatized by two adults then," Remus said casually.

"Just showing him where he was conc-…" Bruce stopped speaking at Remus' glare.

Harry was too mortified to move, his nose wrinkling against his will.

Remus then observed the room once more before he…laughed?! Harry crossed his arms and casts a mock-angry look at the three adults in the room.

"I placed three galleons on a bet with James," Remus explained after he had gotten a hold of himself, "based on a round of dueling here. James bet the potential unveiling of 'The Place', to either Sirius or I. Sirius cheated and won. And then he took to rubbing it in my face by saying, 'it was right under your nose' every time he saw me."

Bruce grinned. "James was a _creative_ man, eh?" he indicated, pointing at the room's decorations.

Croxley lumbered over to the wall and made the room bare again. He looked depressed, Harry noticed just as he cut his eyes towards Remus.

"Yes," Remus agreed. "Almost as creative as his son, who deliberately came up with an elaborate plan to make me believe that he was back with the Weasleys, safe and sound." Remus crossed his arms and stared down at Harry, his voice just disappointed, which was much worse than any yell, Harry thought. "Imagine my surprise to find Harry on the steps, very much alone, and not anywhere near where he was supposed to be."

"I'm sorry?" said Harry sheepishly.

"Is that a question or an apology? If you want me to even consider accepting it; I want you to think long and hard about it." Remus continued just as calmly. "Consider what would have gone through my mind if I had gone to get you from The Burrow first and found that you hadn't ever arrived. What do you think I would have felt, Harry?"

Harry looked down at his feet, the heavy feeling in his chest increasing by the minute. He shrugged miserably. Bruce and Croxley had left the room.

"Please answer the question."

"Angry?" Harry said sadly. "Like I was bad…" he whispered.

"No." Remus looked sad at Harry's words and Harry wanted to fix it, he wanted to not feel like every time he visited the Weasleys that he was intruding in their lives as a family. Harry knew what was next…it hadn't happened because he had been so unsure about Remus and their situation had been so new that he had gone into his comfort zone of obeying everything for fear of punishment or abandonment. "I would have been very worried not to find you there," Remus continued, "I would have been terrified."

Emerald eyes widened in surprise and Harry took a shaky breath. "Sorry, Remus," he said.

"Go up to your room and sleep, we will discuss it tomorrow morning after you've had some time to think about it. Then I will administer the appropriate punishment." Remus looked away when Harry tensed so horribly, his hands clasping themselves together.

"Okay…" Harry made to leave the room and Remus gently grabbed his shoulder. "Don't ever think that any punishment I give you for misconduct would ever be anything even remotely resembling what your relatives did." Harry relaxed under his grip as he nodded his head without looking at him and left the room.

Remus exhaled, letting out a deep breath, and running a shaking hand through his hair. That had been so hard to do. But Harry was only ten, and children needed rules and reinforcement. Remus was actually relived that Harry now felt comfortable enough to act out; that was the grandest show of trust that Harry could give him—that it hadn't even occurred to him when he had stayed that he would be thrashed for the infraction. It was a step in the right direction, he supposed.

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Harry's hand cramped for the upteempth time. Frustrated he balled up the parchment and flung the pencil across his room. Remus had told him that his punishment was to write Remus a letter explaining why what he had done what was wrong.

Harry opened the drawer and pulled out another piece of blank parchment.

_Dear Sir,_

_I was wrong for not going to the Weasleys because you said so and thank you so much for making this my punishment. It was bad of me to even think that I shouldn't go and that the Weasleys would tire of me because Healer Watson said that that's not how friends work and that you don't work hard to please them to make them like you and I let curiosity get in the way, I'll never do it again, sir. Don't come up with more punishments because I learned, honestly I did_…

Harry growled and slammed his pencil down. It sounded stupid and not at all grateful. Did it even make sense? What did Remus want from him? He would never do it again because he didn't want to ever see remuss look so disappointed. He didn't care that he might have been in danger or that he might have been mistaken that the Weasleys would come to think of him as a burden, or what Healer Watson would say about any of it. He. Did. Not. Care.

Scratching out what he had just written, Harry tried again.

_Remus,_

_I'm sorry that I made you be disappointed in me. I was wrong for what I did because it would have made you worry. I wasn't thinking clearly and I was so excited about seeing my godfather. I'm really sorry, it won't happen ever again. _

_--Harry_

There, he was done. And he wasn't even going to reread it, nope, not at all. The talk had taken all morning and Remus hadn't allowed him to see the man who was his godfather yet, just said he needed his rest and that he might have to be bedridden for a while because he was sick. Harry had tried to peek before breakfast when the healer had returned alone and had given Remus instructions on the potions. Harry hadn't gotten a good look at all but from the sound of it, his godfather was a mess as well as a true convict.

Getting up from his seat and putting the letter in his pocket, Harry opened the door to his room. Remus was likely to be in the library, waiting for Bruce to come back with Ervy. They would have their first lesson today and Bruce said that only Ervy and the Kippling's family owl (they'd be spelled not to tell) would even know where Potter Manor was for Harry's safety. Later, Mr. Kippling would be able to Floo call but not come through. The entire arrangement was a bit strange to Harry, who wondered why anyone would go through so much trouble just to get a lessons, that is until Remus had informed him about the current shortage of tutors and the Ministry's foolish assumption that each parent was available all day to their child in order to teach them before their true magical education.

Making as little noise as possible, Harry slipped across the long balcony that stretched into the other side of the house, where the other rooms where. His godfather was in the third bedroom from the left.

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Coughing, Sirius attempted to sit up, completely destroying his last shreds of pride when his body didn't respond at all. He smiled when he realized that Remus had put him in his old room, the room that he had occupied when James' parents had allowed him to stay at sixteen. The posters of bikes and witches were still hanging from the wall and he suspected that James had still kept some of his old clothing inside the untouched chests as well. He stilled when he saw the door crack open.

James?!

No, James was dead, a casualty of war. Sirius was sure Moony had saved him.

Gods, it was his—James, your bloody dominant genes—it was Harry.

Exhaling in anguish, Sirius stared at his godson, memorizing the familiar contour of his features as the boy gazed back at him with his vivid emerald eyes. His body was still shaking but calmness had slid beneath the madness, causing a distinct feeling of happiness to sweep through his body. He had to keep his watery eyes from tearing when he saw James in that little face. Lily's eyes were like haunting mementos of the girl that had made his best friend so happy.

"Mr. Black?" Harry whispered, quickly glancing back into the hall.

Eyes wide, Sirius marveled at the fact that the youth could speak, enthralled that a tiny infant could grow up so fast. His expression was almost bewilderment "Harry…"Sirius managed to say at last in a scratchy voice, he hadn't given speech much of a thought in nearly a decade.

The skinny boy took a step back and opened his mouth to say something but closed it.

"It's ok, kid--I must make a frightful sight." Sirius rubbed his eyes, a migraine engulfing the left side of his face. He winced and the boy pointed at a vial on his night table, keeping a fair distance away and appearing unsure of Sirius' temperament or the threat he posed.

The look stabbed something within Sirius. If he had been there for his godson, the boy wouldn't think him a stranger now.

"You should take that one if your head hurts," Harry told him, pointing at some bluish potion on his night table.

After he had gulped it down with hands that just wouldn't stop shaking, Sirius watched the little boy. He was smaller than he would have expected him to be at—Good Merlin, he had been locked away for about nine nightmarish years! He'd missed nine and a half years of Harry's life. He could only hope that it had been a happy stretch of time for Prong's son.

Harry stared at him from across the room, completely still and eyes watching the storm of emotions on his godfather's haunted, gaunt face.

"I promise not to hurt you," Sirius nearly croaked out, feeling exhausted.

Without speaking, Harry nodded and took a tentative step forward, looking back at the door as if he had been given instructions not come in and had defied the orders.

Sirius' eyelids started to droop and his weak body tried to conserve energy. "Harry…" he started but couldn't finish as he drifted off to sleep.

"Harry!" Remus called through the hall. "Where have you gone off to? You have lessons in two minutes and Ervin has already arrived."

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Ervy's hair looked disheveled, Harry observed after he had sneaked downstairs in record time. The seven-year-old looked as if he had dressed himself for once. He had on a white T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, his trainers looked brand new, and one shoe lace was untied and trailing behind him. He looked, well… like a kid. The sickly pallor of his skin was hidden behind his longish wavy brown locks, pale eyes darting across the room and his face screwed up in concentration, like he was taking everything in, enthralled.

"Hi!" he grinned up at Harry when he spotted him. If Harry was small by his age group's standard, Ervy would be a runt: thin, knobby-kneed, short, and compact. Well, Harry mused, he himself had most likely looked like that while staying with his relatives. But from what Harry had seen, Ervy's family by no means starved him, his father practically would have picked him up to save the boy his walking.

"It's good t'see you're okay." Harry responded, reminded about the state of affairs when he had been whisked away from the Apothecary.

Me?!" Ervy said in a small voice. "You saved me, Harry," he scuffed the tip of his shoes across the carpet, "thank you." His large gray eyes looked up, looking worried. "You weren't hurt were you?"

"Not a scratch," said Harry, overcome with embarrassment.

"Lads, dinning area now," Bruce called, peering over from the left archway briefly.

The boys followed instructions.

After they had been seated, Remus spreading out pieces of parchment and Bruce leaning against the wall right in front of him, Ervy spoke, "Nice place, Harry." Ervy grinned, kicking his legs under the table and sitting on his hands. He had a gray rucksack on top of the polished table, bulging with school materials. It clinked whenever the young wizard accidentally hit the table, leading Harry to believe that he probably had potions inside of it as well.

"Thanks," Harry smiled, unsure about what else to say.

"All done," Remus announced, finally wearing the newer clothes that Harry had once coaxed him to buy. He hadn't worn any of the new ones since he had taken to distancing himself from Harry. "Harry, we've managed to obtain your school records but we don't know how any of the areas it has you low in had nothing to do with your competency in the subject matter. With you we'll just review the basic material and if there's something you don't understand, please tell us," Remus told him.

Bruce put his tattooed hands on one of the chair backs. "Ervin, we've no information whatsoever on yer previous education. Is there anything ya could tell us?" Bruster asked.

Ervy looked thoughtful. "There was a mediwitch that lived with us and she taught me most things. Got most of everything else from sneaking books from the study," Ervy colored slightly, "I wasn't exactly given permission to see them; I was supposed to be resting, actually." Ervy grinned sheepishly.

"Sounds grand, lad." Harry noticed Bruce turn his head away, effectively hiding a strange expression.

"So it's safe to assume that you've not been taught by an actual educator on a regular basis?" Remus asked kindly.

"There wasn't much time for that, most of the time." Ervy's smile faded and he reddened at the ears.

"Don't worry, Ervin. We'll get both of you right on track." Remus smiled, placing two quills and parchments in front of the first two boys.

Bruce waved his wand and summoned a chalk board, stowing away his wand and grabbing a piece of chalk. "Answer these questions and well see where the lot of ya is on sentence structure and penmanship. We'll go slow at first and then speed through some things so that yer not bored ta death."

A mountain of discarded parchment, a pile of broken quills, and ink covered hands and surfaces later, Harry finally thought he had gotten the hang of it. Ervy had already moved on to the math problems on the right board, having dealt with a quill a few times before. Remus was pointing out how exactly to add large numbers. Ervy's eyes were bright and excited, still looking as happy as he'd been when he had first arrived.

"Yer done with that, lad. Leave the artsy stuff to the experts," Bruce said.

Harry put down his quill and wondered what was next. Harry had done the type of Math Remus was revising ages ago.

"Let's move ya on to vocab. Latin, you'll find, is very useful ta wizards." Bruce brought a spare parchment and wrote: '-are' at the top. "These are the first conjugation verbs," he explained. Harry sighed inwardly. He was expected to learn a whole new language!

A good hour later, Harry's brain was swimming with new information. 'Dare' (to give), to be conjugated to another person, had to have the '-are' end removed and be replaced with either '-o, -as, -at, -amus, -atis, and –ant. They stood for: 'I, you, he/she/it, we, you, and they'. Harry had actually understood quite easily. It hadn't been anywhere near as hard as he had expected.

"Let's call it a day for you, Ervin," Remus told the younger boy. Bruce lifted his head and seemed to silently communicate with Remus.

Bruster must have lost whatever contest they had been up to because he said, "Come along, I'll take ya back ta the park so that yer Da can pick ya up."

"Thanks for the lesson; bye, Harry." Ervy swiped his bag from the table and Harry said goodbye before tracing Bruce's Latin words and trying to memorize their meanings.

After a while, Harry was startled out of his work when a plate with a large sandwich was placed in front of him. Remus poured pumpkin juice for both of them before sitting beside Harry.

"Thanks, Remus," Harry said, putting his work off to the side. Remus smiled and nodded, still chewing a large bite he had taken.

They ate in a comfortable silence; Remus finished before the young boy and took his plate to the kitchen.

"Why do you do that?" Harry asked after he had returned.

"What exactly?"

"I always see Mrs. Weasley use her wand to make the plate go to the sink by itself. She even knows a spell for washing," Harry answered, eating the last bite of his sandwich.

"Oh, that." Remus looked thoughtful. "It's a habit I suppose. It takes much longer to do things manually and since I was on my own for a long while, I got into the pattern of doing things in a way that left me busy."

Accepting the answer, Harry drank down his glass of pumpkin juice and watched as Remus set up a row of candles and lit them.

"We're going to give you special lessons on the side for your abilities," Remus explained.

Harry's heart quickened. _He was screaming in agony as the air knocked Remus violently over and the room was being ripped to shreds_…

"Harry?" Remus looked concerned.

"Yeah?" the boy said blandly, clasping together his clammy hands in his lap.

Looking troubled and unsure, the werewolf instructed, "You must concentrate on at least one flame and make it larger, try to remember being angry and the feel of that prickly sensation. I'll be near to help, and if at any point you wish to discontinue the exercise all you need do is inform me."

Nodding, Harry picked the candle right at the middle.

_**Go on, little weapon**_**.**

_Shut up, it's not like that, _Harry asserted. He dug his nails into the bottom of the chair and refocused on the burning flame, willing it to grow. Nothing happened.

_**You're a failure, Boy!**_

No, not Uncle Vernon's voice… He was locked away; he couldn't be in his head. Harry quickly glanced over to find Remus, nearly whimpering when he realized that Remus must have gone into the kitchen. _And then the chain was coming down and Harry couldn't do anything; Uncle Vernon was so angry, so very angry, Harry had been bad…It hurt so bad… NO!_

Taking a deep breath, Harry focused on staring fixedly at the steady flame of the candle as it flickered, digging his nails into his thighs in the way that Healer Watson had told him not to do. Harry just wanted to never have to use his ability ever again.

_**Murder!**_

Harry brought his legs up, shaking his aching head and rocking back and forth as a shrill scream filled his hears, only for him, the smell of burning flesh wafted through his nostrils and death, death, death. He was bad. Oh, gods, if he could still light the stupid candle no one would know what he'd done with his hands. He frantically scratched as his hands, eyes never leaving the flames and not noticing as the prickly sensation started there.

_**Where's your aunt and cousin, Boy!**_

_I didn't do it!_ Harry thought. _They're fine. I didn't hurt them._

_**Where's the owl that you killed?!**_

_That wasn't real!_

_**Then why did you dream of going back to bury it, to hide away the evidence, why did you…**_

Furious and shaken by the dark accusations, Harry screamed, "I COULDN'T HAVE!" All the candles on the table were engulfed instantly in flames and a ball of fire roared angrily, charring the table before leaving behind burnt wood, boiling liquid wax, and clouds of smoke. Harry stumbled to the floor, eyes wide, and breathing hard, pushing himself back and getting as far as possible.

_**Well done, dark one.**_

"No," Harry cried, hugging himself. He felt himself being enveloped in a warm embrace. "I'm not bad…"

"Shh…" Remus soothed, brushing Harry's hair back, "You're not. I'm sorry…I needed to prepare lunch for Sirius and I didn't anticipate you being successful in the first try. So sorry..." He tightened his grip on Harry and the boy fought to get his breathing back under control.

Harry tried to remove himself from Remus' hold after several minutes, trying to hide his hands, he had harmed them himself when the dark thoughts had started.

"You're bleeding," Remus gasped.

The young wizard shoved his small hands behind himself, shaking his head profusely.

"Let me see, Harry." The werewolf looked so guilty and pained when he rolled Harry's sleeves up, exposing little pools of blood on his arms as well, where the intense prickly sensation had started. His hands were scratched and his fingernails were stained red. Harry ducked his head, ashamed.

"Episkey," Remus whispered softly, waving his wand over the wounds. He casts a spell to clean the blood away while Harry fought back tears. Remus coaxed Harry's chin up with one finger. "They're just memories, Harry," he said gently, "remember how Healer Watson taught you those breathing exercises and how to calm yourself by thinking of good memories?"

"Yeah, I didn't think to do it this time," Harry admitted miserably.

"The fault is mine; I should have been here the whole time. We both didn't think over the situation thoroughly." Remus observed his young charge and took a piece of chocolate out of his pocket, handing it to the young boy. "Go on up to your room and rest for a bit, relax and Bruce will speak to you about some other lessons he wants you to do after I prepare dinner."

"Can I help you in the kitchen instead; I don't want to be alone." Harry looked down at his feet, dispirited.

"Of course you can, Harry. Do me a favor and go to the washroom and splash some water over your face, let your body cool down," Remus told him.

Harry walked off, careful to avoid looking at the table.

"Well done, mate." Bruster said from where he was leaning against a darkened corner, having rushed in at the same time as Remus when he had heard the youth scream. "I start his physical training in a week. It'll make it easier to control the Elementals without doing irreparable harm to his body." He raised his eyebrows, "As ya know, it also makes transformations during the moon less painful, for those that may be inflicted with such an illness."

Remus frowned and looked away.

"If ya think making yerself face the brunt of it is doing anything for yer 'issues', ya have another thing coming," Bruce informed him. "Don't let yer mistakes blind yer choices in the future. Ya have more control over that animal than most and yer doing yerself a disservice by thinking that taking care of yerself will just be helping the wolf. Give yerself more credit."

The werewolf exited the room without comment. Bruce looked passively after him before twirling his lavish mahogany wand just once and repairing the table. The remaining debris of the candles vanished. He sighed, looking torn before he lifted his wand to the space behind his ear and speaking softly, "I can't be sure, yet, Vextra. Not of anything. But I bloody loathe this…" He paused, eyes unfocused, before he muttered, "I understand…yeah, he'll be alright."

Bruce sighed deeply, replacing his wand in his holster before taking out two more vials of potions, his other hand brushing his hair back before resting on the runes on his cheek. The rogue shook his head as if to clear it and a glint of gold reflected the light, a sun embossed on his skin, a half moon resting inside with seven scattered stars, glittering as the sunlight hit the area. It twinkled, charged with ancient magic and making the image appear life-like, as if the heavens were made to be painted gold. The image faded into his skin, looking like a red welt, before the skin appeared normal once more. Bruce scratched the back of his ear and touched the repaired wood that Harry had set fire to, his expression absolutely forlorn.


	14. Twisted Fates

**_A/N: Please Read and review _**

"Don't let them hear your breathing, Harry."

Harry pressed himself to the back of the shed, his breathing erratic. "They won't find us, Ron."

"Do you think we can make a run for it?" Ron asked, cheeks flushed from exertion and the dry heat that had yet to abate.

"Not a chance. I don't think they expected us to get this far," Harry said in a worried tone, fanning his face with the stretched collar of his shirt.

"Maybe we should just go back." Ron met his eyes, droplets of sweat forming on his brow as he wiped his dirt-stained hands on his shorts, adding to the streaks of mud that had soiled his clothes throughout the day. Compared to Ron's attire, Harry's jeans appeared spotless.

"Let's stay a while longer, just to be sure," Harry said seriously, keeping his eyes on the fog drifting through the tree tops and blocking out the sun. A chill ran up his spine and the sweat on his forehead felt cool in one single instant. Flashes of pain went up his forearms as Harry fisted his hands and used his thumb to chip away at the hardened ice over a fingernail.

Ron gave him a funny look, rubbing his goose-pimpled arms. "You feel that?" he asked, looking around wildly.

"What?" Harry responded, holding his breath. The slip-ups of control had been happening erratically ever since the time he had, as Bruce put it, tapped into the stupid natural currents. It was absolutely maddening to have no control, to feel that pain, dreading the moment that everyone would discover what he was.

Before the twins had gone off to Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally burned the tip of Scabbers' tail in a complicated incident that had involved Errol and uncooperative fire irons. Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been appropriately befuddled as they had been forced to nearly drown the ancient rat when the fireplace hadn't even been lit and their children had been ensconced within a rather violent game of exploding snap. "The quake caused by your stomach?" he added quickly, nudging Ron in the ribs and feeling relieved that no one had even suspected him, even with the clearly spooked expression he had been unable to shake.

"I'm hungry." The redhead pouted, rubbing the newly sore spot in such a dramatic way that his friend wondered if he had actually swung a bat at him. Ron absolutely loved exaggeration. Sometimes he and Ron would stay awake, up in his tiny attic room, and pretend that their pillows were fierce magical creatures that only strong, able wizards could defeat. His red-headed friend could take anything Harry said, like a quill being a magical wand, and Ron could make it sound like Merlin's staff itself.

"Git."

Before Harry knew what was happening, a grinning Ronald Weasley had flung a fistful of leaves right at his chest.

"I know you didn't just do that." Harry glared, feeling better after seeing Ron's bright grin. The renewed heat beating down their backs once more could have also been a large contributor.

"And if I did?" Ron teased, taking several precautionary steps back. "Is Ickle Harrykins going to do something about it?" The twins, in their unfaltering genius, had come up with most annoying nickname to use for Harry when they wanted to get his attention. Ron, Harry had decided, loved using it far too much for his liking, in an effort to rile him up.

"I don't know," Harry responded, his face holding a peculiar mixture of annoyance and amused pleasure at their friendly bantering. "But I'm about to lose a best friend," he threatened, bending over to collect a stick without taking his eyes off of his friend.

Ron's grin only grew as he found an even larger twig littering the ground and held it in front of him like a sword. The boy opened his mouth for a rebuttal but snapped it shut when they heard someone clearing their throat.

"See, Daddy! I told you. They can't even pick a game and stick to it!" Ginny's indignant voice stopped them before they could bang them together properly.

"Hey! That's not true." Ron shouted at a scowling Ginny, standing next to their father not four feet from the tree Harry and he had just been trying to hide behind.

"Yeah," Harry added, taking offense, "it's not our fault we picked a good hiding place. We were bored waiting."

"Now, all of you cool down," Mr. Weasley admonished, looking weary, a direct result of breaking up the snipping Ron and Ginny had kept up since morning. "I understand that it may be frustrating only being able to play under supervision, but we don't want you children coming across a Dementor, or worse, an escaped murderer. Keep your tempers in check and we'll make the best of this."

Harry scratched the back of his neck and bit his lip uncomfortably, absolutely hating that he had to lie to his friends. Remus had been wrapped up in the dilemma with Sirius and the fuss the Ministry was making. Harry had been forbidden from following the news and hadn't even gotten to see the fearsome visage of the creature that wizards called Dementors. His two friends hadn't stopped talking about it since the Daily Prophet had run seven full pages on the escalating search.

Across from him, Ginny's fierce eyes swiveled towards his before she looked down at the floor. "I don't want to be left out... And, Ron," she glared at her brother, "you promised."

"Alright, alright. I'll count this time." Though he didn't seem happy about it, Ron pressed his head against the rough bark and covered his face. "One…"

The largest smile graced Ginny's face and she ran past Harry.

"Two…"

In his hiding spot, Harry wondered, and not for the first time, whether Mr. Weasley would stop giving him away by those covert glances that he did a terrible job of concealing. Merlin, he was getting a lot of those lately.

"Three…"

"Lucius Malfoy is requesting entry through the Floo, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley suddenly called through the kitchen window, startling Errol, who plunked down at the ground like a paperweight, talons stretched towards the sky. Ginny, who had been sharing her hiding spot with a particularly irate garden gnome, grabbed the poor owl by the foot and lifted him back up to the ledge.

By the time Harry even tried to locate Mr. Weasley, he found himself unceremoniously hauled up by his arms and pushed right behind the taller wizard.

"Really, I insist you wait for him inside, Mr. Malfoy." Harry could hear the forced quality to Mrs. Weasley's voice as the door opened and the blonde man from Diagon Alley pressed forward.

"I truly must insist, if I am to endanger myself within the questionable safety of that _thing_." Pristine robes were pat down by ring-clad hands as the long-haired wizard stepped outside, head held up high.

"Care for a spot of tea," Mr. Weasley said with forced politeness, "though you did show up unannounced, not to mention, uninvited, Malfoy."

Harry stumbled backwards when a wand pressed to his forehead and he felt the familiar chill pass through the scar.

It took only seconds for the foreboding wizard to spot him and his eyes kept Harry's as he continued on to speak fluidly.

"Such extensive wards on your-…" he looked around and curled his lip in disgust, "_home_, Weasley. You would think you were hiding something," he drifted off, his cold eyes leaving the young boy's and looking down his nose at a harmless single daisy at his feet. It crushed pathetically under the pointed tip of his cane. "Unless it is _someone_?"

Ron and Ginny were herded into the kitchen by the family matriarch while Harry was once again under the intense scrutiny of Lucius Malfoy. The cold eyes made his blood run cold as he listened to Mrs. Weasley quiet his friends in the kitchen, Mr. Weasley tapping his wand continuously against his leg all the while. Feeling slightly woozy at the very idea that the very man he had been warned against had shown up so easily at the doorstep of The Burrow, Harry got up quickly and remained still.

"Ah, you have a guest here?" was the falsely innocent question. "I do believe we've met prior to today, have we not, child?"

Mr. Weasley put a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook his head, making sure the young boy held his tongue. "It isn't your business being here, Malfoy. And I'd be more than happy to show you the way out."

"Child, what is your name?" His persistence seemed unwavering.

"You need not answer to him," Mr. Weasley contradicted. "He is a friend of my children. You have no business with a ten-year-old, do you, Malfoy?"

Malfoy sneered and his fingers twitched, like they were itching to strike. "We are unable to locate Remus Lupin and we at the Ministry are requiring he answer a few questions about the escapee. Your boys were overheard discussing gifts they may have received from him. And, if I recall, this child, of whom I have no business with," he mocked, making the words sound indecent, "was with Remus Lupin on that very day that we met those weeks ago."

"I wasn't aware that interrogating children on the whereabouts of man you _claim_ he may have spent the day with such a long time ago had become ministry protocol," the red-haired patriarch replied coolly.

Narrowed eyes held Harry's before Mr. Weasley shielded him with a single side step. "I think it's time you leave, Malfoy."

"I shall return at a later date," the blonde said, much like a threat. "You are withholding something from the ministry, and by extension, the wizarding world itself," Malfoy said with unbidden scorn. "How will your family survive if they are disgraced even further by your imprisonment?"

"Get out of my home!" Mr. Weasley spat, his eyes holding fierce anger. Harry hadn't seen the man like that since he had blown up his relative's home.

"Gladly," he swiftly turned and Apparated out with a sharp crack.

Mr. Weasley didn't move for several seconds before he turned to Harry, crouching so that they were at eye level. "You need not worry about it, Harry. I know Remus Lupin is innocent, even if some may be suggesting otherwise. Even the eyewitness accounts from the prisoners say that it was a group of masked individuals that worked quickly," he said resolutely, as if it was the most obvious truth in the universe. Harry knew better.

"If me being here is trouble-…"Harry started as the older man shook his head, wearing a soft smile, and Harry muttered the rest of the apology.

"Harry, mate, you okay?" Ron peered out the window, startling Errol again, and Ginny exited the house to pick up the disgruntled family owl off of the ground, rolling her eyes.

"Fine," Harry said quickly.

"Blimey! The big git wouldn't stop staring." Ron dragged him inside, pulling him by his arm.

"Ronald!" his mother reprimanded him.

"Leave him be, Molly. I find the title quite fitting."

She scowled, though half-heartedly, and the corner of her mouth quirked up as she tossed in spices into the stew. "Ginny, dear, set the table."

Ginny made a face and Harry sent her a sympathetic smile, the interrupted play forgotten, only like true friends would. She smiled up at him, her chocolate brown eyes meeting his as she set clinking silverware.

By now he knew better than to offer to help Mrs. Weasley. It was quite annoying to have someone believe that you were so fragile that you couldn't set the table, let alone ride a broom that Ron had so enthusiastically described, but she did have good intentions.

"Let's play exploding snap, Harry. You shuffle."

"S-s-sur-r-e…Ron!" Harry dropped the stack of cards when it became apparent that the twins had been successful in their experiments to make a stuttering stack.

Ron roared with laughter, relieving the coiled tension that had settled over the room since Mrs. Weasley had been made to let Malfoy through or risk further ministry interference inside their home. His stay at The Burrow suddenly seemed brighter, Harry thought, as Ron purposely held the cards in his hand and proceeded to enthusiastically sing the Hogwart's school song in the most off key tune he could muster.

IiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIi

A creak emanated through the room, his sharp hearing picking it up as he turned his head, wincing at the pain in his aching muscles. Just one more day until his spine and bones shattered within his body to connect sewing flesh and blood into a fearsome monster. His blood boiled like poison with the detested curse. Another day in the life of Remus Lupin…

Quitting his perusal of a text he hadn't gotten past the first word in, since its selection two hours ago, he lifted his gaze towards the possible intruder. The door seemed to twist open as the shadows pulled across the frame, candles flickering across the room, illuminating Bruce Lorcan with his heavy violet eyes. Forward he stumbled, catching Remus by surprise, his shoulders collapsing as his fingers dug into the wooden floor.

"Bruce!" The rogue wouldn't open his eyes when Remus kneeled beside him, panicked hands checking for wounds. With great pain and effort, Bruster pulled himself up and roughly pushed Remus aside with knuckles painted red, gashed and bruised to the max.

"Don't fecking touch me," Bruce said hastily, drained voice full of exhaustion. Staggering to a chair, he pressed his fists to his eye sockets, smearing blood across the pale skin, his teeth catching his whitening lip until the skin broke. "If ya don't have some bloody spirits, have mercy on me and knock me clean out," he warned, vocal chords tight, "just ward the room with the best spells ya know."

It wasn't until Bruce had swallowed down the glass of admittedly dusty Tanqueray dry gin that he blinked open his red-rimmed eyes. Remus waited patiently as Bruce took an even, raspy lungful. "Lucius Malfoy found yer apartment, or rather his goons did," his voice broke the silence, teetering in the shocked atmosphere that followed like a ringing bell. "Don't look so shocked, Remus. Galleons can go very far, and it seems like we've caught his curiosity," Bruce confessed absentmindedly, touching his knuckles with childlike wonder.

That broke the strain of fear that had paralyzed Remus and he bit out, "That does not change the fact that they had a target in mind." Panic threatened to swallow him whole. If Harry and he had still been living there… The Malfoy head had already been poking his nose inside the Burrow just that afternoon. Not even wanting to imagine the possibilities, he unconsciously tightened his grip on his wand and watched as Bruce snatched the bottle of gin off a neighboring tabletop and gulped down its contents.

Swirling his thumb against the neck of the bottle, Bruce said softly, "Have ya ever wondered how a bloke can do such terrible things that the public can't even bring themselves ta say his name?" Bruce watched carefully as Remus' eyes widened slightly. "That's one thing they never do discuss, is it, how Voldemort," he pronounced easily, without hesitation, "got to be who he was," he said absentmindedly.

There was something inherently evil and abominable about the creature who had committed such atrocities, Remus knew. "How was -…" Remus couldn't even imagine what the proper terminology was for how such a monster rose to such power.

"Yer guess is as good as me own. People accept tales, even from a torn hat; they accept things as they is in ignorant bliss because they loathe to face their own darkness, the beast within themselves, waiting fer that moment to consume bleak souls and hearts. Maybe it's time that ya question what ya know to be true," he accentuated the last, "about who ya think ya know."

In a warp of doubts, Remus furrowed his brow, stunned about what Bruce was implying, yet fully aware he was being maneuvered.

"I have to go," Bruce said abruptly, shutting his eyes when a baffled Remus grabbed his arm to stop him. Dislodging his arm, he turned his gaze to the crackling embers of the fireplace. "Keep the lad safe, and do everything ya can to make sure he doesn't come across a Dementor, or Malfoy for that matter. It's a quare aul' world, after all," he spat, something very off about his expression.

"What is wrong with you?" Remus questioned, noticing the tell take signs of intoxication under the influence of potent potions. Bruce's eyes were dilated and bloodshot, making his profile quite severe.

"I have an appointment with getting bloody buckled, till-…" Bruce drifted off, staring at an empty corner in the room. "That's the last time I fecking risk this," he seemed to mutter as he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The men, at the apartment, what have you done with them?"

Bruce snorted, tipping the gin into his mouth and staring at the floor as if witnessing the most fascinating sight. "I let them feel, I only let them feel," he answered cryptically.

Remus' gut twisted. "Merlin, you didn't murd-…" he drifted off, horrified.

Boldly, the rogue looked Remus in the eye. The pupil expanded so rapidly that Remus looked away, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

Merlin, he felt breathless. He wanted to weep and laugh hysterically all at once; it was like a desperate need in his chest, suffocating. The pain was palpable even as his stomach was churning with relief. "Don't ever do that again," Remus admonished, overwhelmed.

"It would have been far worse if ya would've touched me." Serving Remus a glass of gin, Bruce's quaking hands spilled the alcohol. The rogue cursed under his breath, looking unconcerned with the blood still coating his hands. "I've overdosed on me potions already, so spirits is the best I can do."

"It was only a second," Remus said breathlessly, caught up with the sensations and the power they seemed to have over him.

"I counteracted it with one of me happy memories, so that ya'd avoid the nasty side effects-- shock, cardiac arrest, madness…" he mentioned offhandedly. Toying with a silver ring on a chain around his neck, Bruce smiled distractedly at a corner, the scars on his face seeming to disappear as his tattoos seemed to shimmer in the light.

"This…this thing, it must have a name. By Merlin, I never expected that, Bruce." At first, Remus had believed the ability to be a form of Legimens, an empathic ability of sorts. But this was not that, it was too harsh, far too willing to entrap, to kill.

"Sick, isn't it?" Bruce chuckled darkly before looking ill at what he'd done. "Me ma before me was an Erhartian. She had the heritable ability to see within the heart, me Da would say, bloody romantic that he was. It has inescapable stages...I'm the final stage," he looked like he wanted to weep and laugh all at once, such a mad contradiction of emotions raging against each other. "A stretch from being that Auror bloke who got inklings about intentions on occasion, I assure ya. That's fate, that cold grip in yer belly, the boiling in the veins that drag us through fire and chain us to destiny." Pain lined his face, his eyes alone vivid with it, burning gems of indescribable depths.

Gods, how could someone live like that? Remus swallowed, realizing the parallels between them both. While the rogue wasn't ostracized, nor was he a creature against his very will, Remus couldn't imagine what it would feel like to carry that disturbing torrent of invading, all consuming, emotions.

Bruce met his eyes after staring at a letter on his desk, looking serious, "She's a good kid, wolf, don't let her be just another statistic." Bruce took another swig of liquor. "I'm very wise, ya know. Just repeat what I've told ya over the years."

"Spewing others' advice against vices can hardly be mistaken as wisdom." Remus couldn't help but smile at his friend's half grin. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to see the rogue in the same light.

Reclining back in his chair in a newly empty room, the werewolf smiled to himself. The loon had taken the bottle of gin with him. No, definitely not difficult at all.

IiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIi

_The boards creak under his feet, blackened ashes crushed and pulverized with every step. Crushed glass pursues him endlessly, like broken frames destroyed in anger, silent ghost on walls and spaces that remember the broken memories that hadn't been real in the first place. Laughter and fake toothy grins mock the place, it's all in the eyes, alien to the joy, and he feels it. A wave of anger and disgust burdens his chest._

_A door swings open, though it wasn't by permissive touch, and a labyrinth of shelves tear through the cracks in the floor and he's surrounded, trapped. Gusts of phantom wind carry a desperate cry and his head snaps around. He pants raggedly as he moves forward, not even the angry heat can keep the relentless chill away. For the first time, he feels real fear at the sound of beating wings coming from the rafters.  
_  
Drenched in sweat, Harry woke with a gasp, a soothing trill interrupting his frazzled breathing. He mopped his head with his duvet, seeing gold and red plumage through his thin sheets.

"Since when does Dumbledore let you deliver post?" It was Dumbledore's familiar, Fawkes, who trilled again more forcefully, sending a rush of calming emotions through the young wizard. "He usually sends school owls, you know." Harry smiled when the phoenix nibbled on his hair, doing a pulling motion. "Maybe he likes them better…" Fawkes used his large clawed feet and pushed Harry's alarm clock off the night table. "Hey!" Harry cried in indignation. Fawkes flamed to rest on Harry's bureau, depositing a scroll on Harry's lap as he did so.

_**  
Harry,**_

_**Fawkes is near a burning day and his behavior has been quite pitiful. To allow myself minutes free of the oppressive air, I sent him towards you. Do take your time in your missive, dear boy. **_

Harry smirked at Fawkes. "You can't burn here, Fawkes. Remus told me that Dumbledore isn't allowed to visit until the ministry stops coming to Hogwarts. We wouldn't be able to take you back if you're a baby again."

_**  
I have been informed that you have been suffering from night terrors. And I do regret your choice of abandoning your Mind Healer appointments, though it is your decision alone to make. As an integral component of the promise I have made to you, I only ask that you trust in me to assist you. Seeing a Boggart can be quite traumatic and I must know if it is what has been causing the terrors. In relation, your show of accidental magic was not your fault; you should not feel any responsibility to the event. I shall endeavor to be at your call if you need further reassurance of the fact. Please respond so that I may assess your needs.**_

Harry sighed, peering up at Fawkes through his fringe. He hadn't thought Remus would start telling Dumbledore if he heard only one of his many nightmares. That was just so unfair, Remus sending his stupid letters and not even giving him the time of day as he either went to do something for Sirius or locked himself in the boring library all day.

Harry's imprisonment at Potter Manor, because that's what it felt like, was divided between studying, trying to light a stupid candle while Remus perched himself over his shoulder as he failed epically, visiting Ron and Ginny only when a full moon came, and spending the little time he had with Ervy, who was currently the only friend he was being allowed to see on a regular basis. Big stupid house, dumb, ignoring Remus, and an escaped prisoner that Remus didn't 'prefer' he see alone, all topped by idiotic powers that he couldn't even manage. Not to worry, he could just be dangerous to himself or anyone else if he didn't improve soon!

Throwing the covers back, Harry stalked to his desk and wrote up a cheery letter to Dumbledore, every other sentence sounding sarcastic to his own ears as his eagle-feather quill messily scratched across the parchment.

It was going to be a long day.

It was almost mid-morning and Harry hadn't yet seen a hair off his guardian's head. Fawkes had left about an hour ago, and Harry was determined to bring forth at least a modicum of courage. His fingertips grazed the cold brass of the door handle and he took a deep breath before knocking. There was never an answer anyway; Harry didn't know why he bothered. He hadn't gotten past standing outside the door quite yet.

Besides, Remus hadn't _exactly_ said that he couldn't see his godfather

He peered around the crack of the door to find Sirius. "You're awake," he said softly.

Eyes, deep blue, flecked black like the messy residue of an old crayon, finally moved from the empty metal frame on top of the bureau. Hands curled into the sheets, Sirius Black looked every bit as fragile as Remus had predicted. The harsh, heavily encrusted lines disappeared and his face lit up like dawn on morning concrete as they landed directly on Harry.

It made the boy feel a pang of something in his chest.

"It's you." Sirius smiled lazily and Harry wondered if even his face muscles were in a state of severe atrophy. "I thought it was Remus, the bloody git of a healer promised I could get out of bed today, finally…" While raspy, Harry thought Sirius sounded more recuperated than he would have thought.

"I can go get him and leave you alone," Harry offered quickly, not knowing if he wanted to escape or brave out the encounter.

"Don't. Moony treats me like an invalid." Sirius winced as sunlight hit his face from the window.

"Are you still weak, sir?" Harry asked the grumbling man as he sealed the curtains shut.

His godfather sent him a sharp look and Harry flushed, moving back towards the door.

"Right…Sirius, I mean." He peered apologetically at his godfather's gaunt face, the man's skin looking waxy under the bleak morning light, matted hair draped across his decidedly filthy looking pillow. "Sirius, why haven't you talked to Remus before?"

Sirius sighed, averting his haunted blue eyes. "It's complicated."

Harry furrowed his brow. Remus was in and out all day, and Harry occasionally watched him and sneaked a peek inside to see what was happening. Sirius had seemed almost lifeless, his lips never moving once to form the words he was speaking freely now. The ill man hadn't even looked at the werewolf's face, not once.

And Remus, as a testament to his unwavering kindness, had droned on endlessly about what had been happening since the war. "Did you know he thinks you might be a mute?" Harry asked when Sirius was examining the sickly pallor of the skin on his hands.

Grinning toothily and tucking his hands at his side, Sirius looked over at him. "I have wondered why he doesn't ever initiate conversation," he admitted in a raspy voice.

The young boy covered his mouth to stifle his laughter, quickly glancing back at the dark-lacquered door.

"We'll just have to remedy that, then," Sirius announced, groaning as he made to pull his torso up. "Help me up, kiddo."

Shutting the door the rest of the way, Harry hesitated before moving to the slight man's bedside. Discreetly, he pulled his sleeves down, glad that he had worn the shirt with the sleeves that still covered most of his hands.

"Are you gonna bathe?" Harry asked when they had entered the large connecting bathroom. Sirius had only needed Harry's assistance in order to gather his balance.

Sirius glared but his lip quirked, ruining the effect. "I'll clean up as best as I possibly can," Sirius announced as he glowered at his reflection, his lips set in what appeared to be a pout. "And we'll prove to Moony that my fevers have not weakened me, nor made me delirious by any means. In fact, I'm fit to be up and about for the first time since my _ordeal_."

It was Harry's turn to feel out of place, mostly because he had no idea what to say about the prison. He searched for something to say. "I'll dress your bed in clean sheets; Remus says it's one of my chores anyway."

"They aren't that ripe." Sirius sniffed at his nightshirt and grimaced. "How are you breathing around me?"

"I'm not." Harry grinned; relieved when the older wizard didn't clobber him for his cheek. Sometimes he hated meeting new people, especially the part of finding out how to act around the person without being a bundle of nerves ready to go off.

Sirius stared at him a few seconds before he smiled. Harry felt like he'd just been given a stamp of approval of sorts as he left the bathroom.

"Mix this up, will you?" Sirius called Harry twenty minutes later from the steaming door frame, wearing a black shirt with trousers, looking clean for once.

Diligently, Harry mixed Mrs. Scower's shaving powder with water, trying not to notice his godfather's poorly hidden examination. At one point his fingers just barely touched Harry's scar, causing him to freeze at the haste contact, before Sirius distanced himself once more.

"How many laps can you do now?" Sirius asked him after a long while, distracting Harry, who had been fixated on the trembling blade as it swept across the papery thin skin. At Harry's surprised expression, Sirius confessed. "I watched from the window during your physical lessons."

"Three," Harry announced, face breaking out into a grin to make up for the guilt he felt for letting Sirius see he had noticed his tremors. "Bruce said that most people my age can't do that many." Harry practically glowed as he repeated the praise, causing Sirius to pause mid-stroke as he was sweeping a blade across his chin.

Feeling exposed, Harry fixed his face to a passive expression and chastised himself for being so transparent. "Bruce did seven during my three and he didn't even break a sweat!" Harry said, just as his godfather took a pair of scissors in his hands and gathered the knotted bundle of his hair.

By the end, Sirius was looking relatively healthy, by Harry's opinion. The cut had been swift and successful in lessening the severity of his emaciated look, making his cheeks seem fuller. His expressive eyes remained haunted and sunken, while his hair grazed his weak shoulders.

"Much better, sir-_er_-Sirius."

"The Muggle queen has yet to knight me, I'm sorry to say that you must drop the _'Sir'_ title for now. Though I do hold the hope that it will be any day soon," Sirius said seriously. He walked past Harry and winked.

The disparity between Sirius' jovial speech and Harry's usual interaction with Remus was such a surprise that Harry broke out into peels of laughter.

IiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIi

"Promise you won't get mad at me."

Remus turned and a plate must have slipped his hands because it slammed into the sink and shattered. "That depends, Harry, on what you have done," Remus replied, regaining his composure. He'd been startled out of his reverie.

The boy wrung his hands. "I might have accidentally gone to see Sirius."

When he heard the sluggish shuffling of feet by the doorway he knew that someone had joined his ward. It killed him that he couldn't bring himself to even glance in their direction immediately.

"A most fortunate accident… If I had sulked any longer, you would have had to _incendio_ the bed along with the sheets, just for the stench alone," Sirius said, every syllable feeling like a scrape against the animagus' throat.

"Give me a minute, I'm almost done here." The refusal to acknowledge the torrent of emotions battling for dominance within his chest was overwhelming. He wanted nothing more but to not have to face the impending confrontation. He was utterly out of his depth. Remus gathered himself together, washing his dishes, drying his hands, looking for the crushed remnants of his past, trying uselessly to mend them so that the sharp edges would no longer hurt.

"Eat," said Remus quietly, placing a full English breakfast in front of Sirius after battling to get Harry to gulf down a piece of toast before going to complete his assignments out in the dining area.

"Thanks." Sirius stared at the decadent meal and sighed at the fork, his finger itching to eat as quickly as possible before the food got chilled, frozen and cold, chilling him from the inside, adding to the never-ending numbness. Gripping the cool fork in his bony hand, he shut his eyes, aware that Remus was watching him.

"Are you alright, Sirius?"

"Now there's a loaded question." Sirius snorted mirthlessly. "Really, Moony, if you're going to ask me that at any point that I feel uneasy, you'll be interrogating me the whole day." He tried to smile but his eyes strayed around the amount of space in the room, where shadows fell upon the tiled floor. "It was dark for a while…but it's gotten so much better now that my mind isn't all muddled." There it was-- the brutal honesty, a tiny glimmer of the old self.

"I-…" Remus started and then seemed to lose his calm countenance, sitting stiffly into the chair across from the now eating man, looking grave. It all seemed too much. Remus was older, the wolf was fiercer, his emotions so hardened by constant abuse; he wasn't the old Moony. Not even close.

Concentrating on a large morsel of meat, Sirius seemed as lost as Remus felt in how to proceed. "Stop looking at me with pity, Moony. It's already bloody depressing." He cut Remus off when the werewolf opened his mouth, resolved with how he was to handle the situation. "And don't you dare apologize." Warningly pointing his fork at him, he gave Remus a sharp glance. "I know that look."

Remus rolled his eyes, something he hadn't done since his teen years, and rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. Then he remembered how he had used to look, how happy he had once been–they had all been–and it all felt wrong.

"That expression might have worked at thirteen, but no rubbish 'Remus talks', alright?

Remus smiled, though his eyes remained unbearably sad.

"What?" Sirius shoved a banger in his mouth, ravenous, avoiding the other man's gaze entirely.

"Glad to see your speech is back to normal; you always did have a penchant for hearing yourself speak," Remus tried.

"Ah, that's because I'm absolutely brilliant," Sirius said conversationally, suddenly aware that the Sirius Black that he had once been had never used one arm to protect his meals from rodent fiends.

"Merlin, help us, Sirius Black is back," Remus said softly, watching the play of vulnerability and instability in his old friend's jerky movements. It was disheartening.

Sirius smirked, looking a bit smug, though the expression never strayed near his eyes. "My, isn't that what the rest of the blokes used to say when I came through the portrait hole."

"Only because you were notorious for stealing their girls," Remus quipped, fiddling with a serviette lying on the worn table.

Suddenly the light and easy conversation turned heavy with the weight of all that was left unsaid between them.

Remus' face drained of all blood as he dug both of his hands in his pockets. "I apologi-…" he stopped himself, shutting his eyes, unable to go on. The words seemed devastatingly inadequate now.

Sirius met the statement with silence. "Don't-…" Kippers escaped the animagus' prodding fork, which was then set aside next to his plate. "I didn't trust you," he confessed, knowing it was true because he had been forced to relive only the pain in his life for nine years. Every harsh and unbearable moment, endured with certain reality, those in the ancient house of Black calling him a shameful waste of flesh as he clasped icicle-cold hands over his ears and screamed to drown the madness.

"A fact for which I can hardly blame you," Remus said after a long moment, staring intently at his scarred hands. "I'm a deeply private person, a habitual loner, and I drew into myself when we graduated." He smiled fondly at the empty picture frames still hanging on the wall, remembering the people that had once filled them. "With my parents gone, I couldn't hold a job long before they grew suspicious of my frequent monthly illness. And my own friends," he took a deep breath and shrugged, indicating there was no remaining bitterness on the old wound, "you were so excited with all the job opportunities, living the high life, and I could barely pay my rent for my miserable, hardly livable flat and meals."

"You never-…" Sirius started, seeming genuinely surprised and slightly even paler then he had been just minutes before.

"You didn't ask and I wouldn't have told you. Contrary to popular opinion, I try to maintain a modicum of pride," the werewolf replied strongly. It didn't matter that the shards that had once been forcefully pressed into his chest were still there, that it ached endlessly, that it had once driven his own wand to circle around his heart, willing drunk, aching fingers to stop the incessant rhythm. It was in the past and tiny fingers and pleading emerald eyes had assured the earth that he was to be condemned to a hundred more pale moons before his body broke, no longer able to sustain the abomination that others had called his life.

At Order meetings-..."

"Dumbledore sent me to the Grimhouse. There had been talk of a spy among us by then and the headmaster suggested I keep my discretion… It was my decision to wager my friends, who were moving on with their lives, for a chance to put meaning into my existence, for a hope that I may have a cause yet. If I had known that it would lead to… their deaths, I would have confessed it, even if it could have cost me. My friends meant more to me," Remus finished sadly, a smothering ache in his chest because he could suddenly recall moving rubble away from James' tortured body, hazel eyes so blank, void of the strong-willed spirit that had always burned there.

Sirius paled at the mention of Grimhouse alone--a common reaction. Those at eighty-three Grimhouse, the home of outcasts and exiles in the infamous Nocturne Alley sewer system, had lost the battle against the beast. As a child, Remus had looked down upon them with pity at their weakness. As an adult, the pull had grown, the excruciating pain of transformations had worsened, and sheer hatred and discrimination out of the protections of Hogwarts, the Marauders, and his parents had tested his resolve more times than he dared to count.

Sirius stood abruptly, shaking, distraught when Remus looked so helpless, so much so that the werewolf couldn't even bear to say the names of their fallen family, his dilapidated pack. "Don't you understand, Remus," he said harshly, more to himself, "their names were _James_ and _Lily_, they were twenty-one, had their whole lives ahead of them and I," he jabbed a finger in his bony chest, "wrote their deaths!!"

Sirius' eyes darkened with raw emotion, horrible pain threatening to break free. "My godson, Moony, was only fifteen months old. Harry was too young to lose them, to never have gotten to really know them. I did that; I caused it." His glass of pumpkin juice shattered on the table as Remus remained stock-still in his chair. In a defeated whisper he continued, "It's a wonder you can still look at me in the face…" Sirius made to storm out of the room.

"Kindly return to your seat, Padfoot." said Remus in a thinly veiled command, though his voice was just as even as usual.

Sirius froze but kept his back to his friend, breathing loudly.

The werewolf continued, "I forgive you, Sirius. Did you hear me? How could I blame you for their deaths when you loved them both just as much as I, if not more?"

Without turning, Sirius spoke, the edge absent from his voice, "What if I can't forgive myself? I am a horrible person; dammit, Moony, I can't be anymore ashamed of how many times we fell short with you." He emitted a bitter laugh. "You risked everything to get me out of prison and I can't even begin to formulate an apology grand enough, nor a 'thank you' big enough to absolve me."

"You were always distinctly terrible at apologies," Remus said lightly as he stood, coming around to face Sirius. "Merlin, Sirius, your 'forgive me' face remains completely unchanged." He smiled softly, in an attempt to lighten the rocky atmosphere. "Did you ever manage it?" he asked seriously when it became clear that Sirius wasn't ready to put an end to the conversation just yet.

Immediately, Sirius's shuttered expression gave away that he had understood completely. Being a member of the cleverest at Hogwarts, it was only practical that their communication had been adapted to their circumstance. Or rather, by the end of seventh year, they could coordinate a prank or plan an ambiguously safe moonlight escapade with a single glance.

"I meant to," Sirius growled, slamming his scrawny open palm on the table, the caved sockets of his eyes looking more ominous as he did so, "Peter got the better of me…though the ministry didn't help in the least," he finished lamely.

"Being wrongfully incarcerated for nine years without as much as a trial is hardly just a glitch in the system," the werewolf growled. "They were going to kill you simply because Dumbledore made implications that your imprisonment had been not only hasty but merging on illegal."

"Oh, they stopped feeding me? I would never have bloody guessed," Sirius snapped, trying to grasp on to the deranged anger that could relieve him of the melancholy, poking at his protruding ribcage with a curved digit. "I was under the impression that I was quite a catch," he continued on in self-derision.

Branches scratched against the kitchen window when Remus gazed out, quieting the tirade of his old school mate. "Come off it, Padfoot. You're genetically programmed to clean up better than the lot of us," he said in a poor imitation of James' voice.

He earned a snort for his effort, followed by an undisturbed period of contemplative silence. "I miss him," Sirius admitted softly. "I've no right to."

"Despite the claims of you cleverness, you're an idiot if you believe that. We were all we had and you had no way of knowing that Peter would betray us."

"I can still remedy this; if I could get a wand, I'll find him." The mad expression on his face unsettled the werewolf.

"You most certainly will not. There is no room for perfunctory, hare-brained retribution," Remus said with more confidence then he felt. "You're dead if you're caught; don't tell me you don't know that, Sirius."

"Have you seen the state of me?!" he roared, feeling relieved that Remus had put up a silencing charm as soon as his godson had left. "Can you comprehend the ramifications of what I did? What could I possibly have to offer him?" he voiced ruefully.

Simultaneously, they knew what messy-haired child Sirius was referring to.

"We've paid enough," said Remus evenly, though it seemed as if he was still trying to convince himself. To the day, he himself was unable to answer the question when he couldn't possibly fathom why Dumbledore had placed the sad little boy in his inexperienced custody.

"I hope you're right," Sirius responded, pessimistically imagining all the horrid scenarios in which he could still lose Harry. Life had taught him that good times could sour and twist like strangling vines of misfortune and strife.

"_Reparo!_" Remus repaired the broken glass of juice with a flick of his wand, turning his back to his friend with it in hand. There were chips on the crystal, all over. It was poor reparation; even he knew that the glass in his hand was an unsuitable substitute of the original. Stowing his wand away, he turned his back on his old friend, who was swinging the door open, and used his hand to wipe away the spilled beverage. A tiny shard bit into his skin and he brusquely pulled his wand out and vanished the whole mess away.

Sirius peeked out of the kitchen and a grin brightened his features as he watched his godson reprimand the enchanted salt and pepper shakers that were moving about the table on spindly metal legs.

It was a genuine expression; it made Remus feel better. James and Lily wouldn't have wanted their son to watch his godfather look so utterly torn. Then again, they wouldn't have wanted the little boy to grow up the way he had either.

Harry lunged for the pepper and it released a cloud of the spice, causing him to sneeze. James had charmed the set himself in third year to send back to his father, who had always had a wicked sense of humor. Now their son was holding it in his own hands and he wasn't even there to see it.

"If you had thought that I'd let my godson hunch over a book all day, you've got addled brains, I assure you," Sirius told Remus in a stage whisper, sounding excessively cheerful once more.

"Come to corrupt my charge?" Remus played along.

"All done?" Harry interrupted them, his piercing emerald orbs searching Remus and Sirius' faces, trying to assess how much they had spoken of him. The tone wasn't insolent but it was a step below annoyed.

To Remus, who had the luxury of months of practice in recognizing Harry's moods, the boy merely looked uncomfortable and insecure with the unfamiliar situation.

Sirius cocked his head, much in the same fashion that his counterpart Padfoot did. In true Sirius fashion, the animagus flashed Harry a grin and told him to wait right there because the most incredible idea had just occurred to him. Bounding up the stairs, he left his godson suitably befuddled. The Black heir had somehow managed to retain just a sliver of the natural charisma that usually left sane people to wonder if he had nothing short of a personality disorder.

"Come here, Harry." When the boy drew close, Remus swung an arm around him and pulled him into a warm one-armed hug.

Harry sighed, shifting his eyes off to the side. "What if he doesn't like me, Remus?" he asked quietly.

Surprised, his guardian frowned. "He's your godfather, Harry, I have no doubts that he lived and breathed for your sake." Bringing a finger to lift Harry's chin, Remus said softly, "You mean the world to us both and there's nothing you can say or do that could ever possibly change that."

The ten-year-old looked hopeful at the admission, it being one of the few times that the werewolf could bring himself to dig deep down to confess such feelings when many times his bonds to friends and family had turned to painful, jagged memories.

Harry pulled away when they heard Sirius return, holding a leather bound journal that Remus instantly identified.

"Had to wrestle it from an overzealous dustpan working on the library," Sirius announced disdainfully, "and then I forgot the tomes next to it were animated. Got licked by a salivating tongue on _So You Eat Like A Hoggerpib_. I don't know why your Gran ever bought that thing–the recipes were medieval." He grinned good naturedly at Harry. "Not like I'd know, the most I've ever achieved in the culinary department was a surprisingly delicious mud pie I made at the age of five."

"I must say, Sirius, if you recall the unfortunate incident with baby Harry involving you teaching him said technique and your following tantrum about your ruined, flawless locks," Remus supplied.

Harry laughed as Sirius glared at him and bit out, in the most sarcastic voice that the ten-year-old was sure the human species had ever achieved, that he had not in fact thought of said event, thanking Remus very much for reminding him.

IiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIi

By October, the Daily Prophet had written their first inquiry about the Boy-Who-Lived's whereabouts. Thought it lacked any real facts, it obtained a reporter's exaggerated worries that somehow the madman Black would kill the young savior. It further urged the public to come forth with any information that would assist in locating the child, stressing that they themselves were in the process of going through the proper legal channels to obtain the deeply coveted and sealed files on custody.

Harry, of course, only knew this because Ervy had started sneaking him the wizarding newspaper every other week day, when they had lessons together. The seven-year-old, who was absolutely delighted that Harry had gotten a dog that he spent hours--to Sirius' shameless enjoyment--petting and spoiling rotten, had actually gotten the dog a bulging bag of licorice wands.

Said candy was now, to Harry's mild annoyance, being handfed to Padfoot as all three lay out with their backs on the grass.

"Do you want one too, Harry?" Ervy asked innocently, scratching Padfoot behind the ears.

"If you place it on my hand," Harry responded, smiling.

Ervy giggled, his grey eyes glittering warmly as he reached into his rucksack and pulled out a second bundle of sweets straight from only the best selection Honeydukes had to offer. "Happy Halloween!"

"_Gratias_" Harry quipped cheerfully, swatting away Sirius' paw when he drew close to the bag of Berttie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Ervy pouted. "No fair, I don't know Latin yet."

Harry smiled and grabbed the little boy's hand, placing three Chocolate Frog wrappers in his upturned palm. "Pick your winner."

"For what?" Ervy asked curiously.

"We're gonna race them. Hurry it up."

After minutes dragged on in contemplation, which included plenty of poking and useless hand-weighing experimentation, Ervy announced, "You first."

The boy, much in the innocent way that only little kids could achieve, portrayed a perfect picture of charming exuberance. Harry marveled at that at times. Ervin Kippling could walk up to anybody and strike up a conversation within seconds. He was so small, unthreatening, and his face lit up so quickly when he caught sight of anyone at all, making them feel treasured, as if any amount of time spent near them was valued higher than the star that shined bright within him.

Things just didn't add up with Ervy, and Harry hated to admit it. The little boy was so sickly that he barely got out and his first real lessons were being taught to such a bright kid after far too long. Nothing made sense. There was no describing the sheer joy that stole over Ervy's face when he saw Harry, his first real friend in the world. It was this that connected them, drawing them to each other. And, much in the way that Harry lived in relation to his own past: Harry didn't ask and Ervy didn't tell.

Harry sighed and glared at Padfoot, who was sporting what was apparently the closest a dog could ever come to a teasing expression.

After that, an enthused Ervy won all but one race. Harry was sure that it had something to do with the date. After all, the significance of it being _'all hallows eve'_ was not lost to the child. It had now been exactly one year since the young wizard had destroyed his relative's home at Privet Drive. Bad things just tended to happen on Halloween.

By lunchtime, Remus had insisted that the dog needed a nap, which was closely followed by an entire hour devoted to reading Padfoot a bedtime story, once again upon Ervy's eager insistence and, no doubt, to Remus' rather perverse delight. For some reason, Harry felt that Sirius had not appreciated being treated like a babe in need of a nap.

"This page here says to go that way," Ervy told Harry, scrutinizing the semi-messy scrip of James Potter's handwriting. "Who did you say this belonged to?" Ervy asked curiously, observing the initials** 'J.P'** that were carved on the cover.

"My dad," Harry responded, taking the book and tracing the name with his fingers so that he wouldn't have to meet his friend's gaze when he continued, "James Pellings." Sirius had explained the prized journal had been full of random fun activities to do at Potter manor. Everyone had added something to the pages, some full of dribbles or puzzles from Harry's grandfather. It was an extraordinary enchantment that made all the pages blank, randomized selection, and wouldn't allow skipping to the next few challenges without completing the ones before it. Harry treasured it and abided by the one rule that Sirius had stressed to him–it could never be removed from the manor grounds.

Harry's heart had swelled to read his dad's real handwriting, his silly jokes, and the cleverness of their current challenge. They were on a treasure hunt.

Ervy giggled after asking for the book back. "Yes, you have to climb the tree, you grumbling gremlin. I promise you there's a treacle tart for your troubles at the end of your trail!" the brunette read out loud. "Oh, wait, it's scratching it off," Ervy said in wonder. There was new handwriting, in what Harry recognized as Sirius', though it looked far more juvenile.

_"James, you dolt. There's no telling when the next time someone will read this will be. If there was food, it'd be a part of a nice rock, or else already processed dung piles. Ouch! If you don't stop hitting me with that I'll tell your kin that you're a bloody git."_

_"Due to my friend's untimely passing, I will continue this on my own…"_

_"I'm still alive!" _

_"Not for long!"_

_"As soon as we get your dad to release the dictation spell, I'm going to put you in the treasure chest and allow your future generations-…"_

_"Don't be daft, that's not possible at all."_

_"Hmmm…you're right. I'll just pose as you then. Easy fix. If you're reading this you might actually be my…well, whatever."_

Both boys laughed before trying to find a way to climb the tree. The afternoon went much in the same way, the day pleasantly breezing by, until they reached the hedge and, misunderstanding the challenge, were flung back from the garden wall. The book in Harry's hand had disappeared, meaning they had temporarily left the wards of Potter manor and the journal had once more returned to the library.

"That hurt," Ervy grumbled, his eyes wide with bewilderment as he was helped off the ground by Harry

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah…I'm fine. No way!" There was a look of complete rapture on the little boy's face as his delicate fingers plucked at a violet flower. "This is squill, Harry," Ervy exclaimed with ill-concealed excitement.

"What's it do?"

"What's it do?! This can be used to help with stomach aches, vision, parasites, and snake bites. But even better, in the Middle Ages, they used to hang it upside down near their doors to ward off evil."

"And you need it why?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"For a potion, of course! It's actually magical and helps strengthen wards. This crushed and finely ground can be coated onto clothes to protect people from minor spells, too."

"You're really good at this potions thing, aren't you?"

Ervy blushed, shrugging off the comment as he went to reach behind himself to realize he had accidentally abandoned his rucksack outside of the unkempt greenhouse that both boys had seen earlier in the day.

Seeing his crestfallen expression, Harry promptly spoke up, "We can get it now. Seems like we have to give the hunt a rest until next time you're here."

Agreed, they made their way towards the trees once more, Harry trailing behind Ervy.

Sirius and Remus had given them a limited parameter that they could go into the forest before the wards became far too weak. Some magical creatures lived past the protection of Potter manor, though Harry had yet to see anything and Sirius was still getting the hang of his wand, which he was probably currently invested in inside with Remus, his physical state greatly improved, as well as his mental state, if Harry had anything to say about it.

Ervy hurried ahead, worrying his bottom lip, ignorant to when Harry came to an abrupt stop.

Feeling a cold trickle fall upon his unruly hair, Harry felt mounting dread churning at the pit of his stomach. Dream-like giggles rung in his ears, coming from nowhere, from everywhere, another trickle, a twist of his gut, feeding the horror that was causing his heart to beat a frenzied rhythm within his chest.

_**Look!**_

Harry's breathing quickened. He hadn't heard the cold, heartless thoughts in so long. He hated them; it made him feel mad with the utter violating he felt with each intrusion, knowing that this was inside him. There was no other way to explain the desperate cold it brought. Slowly, Harry lifted his head and muffled a cry at what he saw.

A snowy hare, hanging from the tree by one distorted leg, wept blood onto the dirt. Its ghastly red eyes gazed emptily at him, yellow blocks of uneven teeth gaped open, flies feeding and buzzing. Harry held his breath, exhausted whimpers clawing their way through his dry throat, scraping inside his chest to find some sense of reality. He snapped his head around when he could feel the weight of someone watching him.

Mouth moving in words that seemed ungraspable, like the mantra of a enchanting spell, Bruce Lorcan stood, back against the door, eyes fixed on Harry's, unmoving in their haunting colored haze.

_**He thinks you're mad. He's going to curse you and send you off to the asylum…**_

Pain pierced Harry's scar, flaring fiery hot, and his face contorted. It was excruciating, purely unbearable. Relief rushed through Harry when the pain suddenly stopped, as quickly as the shutting of a tap, his body still rigid with shock. Bruce dropped his gaze to the ground, his face white and pasty before he disappeared back into the house.

Getting a hold of himself and horrified at what had just occurred, Harry didn't hear his friend's calls.

"Harry! You're supposed to be following me," Ervy protested from in front of him.

Turning his head towards the door where Bruce had disappeared, Harry instructed, "Stay here a moment, Ervy. I'll be back." When the ten-year-old threw open the door, it was to see his mentor heaving into the rubbish bin.

"You saw."

Bruce wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spared him a bleary glance before shaking his head.

_**He thinks he can kid you!**_ The demanding, churlish voice roared alive in Harry's thoughts.

"My scar-…"

"Lad…don't dwell on it." The rogue's face was shuttered and unsure. "Darkness has many faces… an allure of devastating magnitude."

_**Old cat's the one who should be in an asylum!**_

Harry frowned when the older wizard lumbered out of the room. He followed him against his better judgment.

"But what's happening to me?! You have to tell me…" For no reason at all Harry's skin was crawling and he felt a choking mass rise in his chest. His scar was starting to hurt again as his mounting hysteria possessed him.

_**Let go, fool.**_

_No!_

_**Show 'em all! Make him tell you the truth!**_

_Never! _

"Control it or I'll do it for ya!" Harry heard Bruce shout, his tone sharpening, after putting up a silencing charm around the room.

_**I'd like to see him try! **_

"No!" Harry gritted out through the frenetic pain bursting his nerve endings.

"This power, lad…ya must understand that if ya don't do yer part, we will be forced ta bind ya," Bruce exclaimed furiously, looking conflicted as he put a palm behind his own ear.

In agony, Harry could barely hear Bruce saying things like 'more time' or 'I can't' in hushed tones before he rounded on Harry again.

_**No!**_

Harry's heart skipped as the pain in his body flared and his body felt consumed by fire. Only then did he realize that every torch in the entrance hall was emitting enormous blasts of flame. Pain encompassed the back of his eyes, and when he almost screamed, he caught sight of Bruster swimming into his vision, wearing a panicked expression. The rogue forcefully pressed his shaking wand to Harry's agonizing scar and chanted hurriedly under his breath, his eyes almost an electrifying shade.

Gasping for air, spots of black distorting his eyesight, Harry caught the blurry movement of the rogue and then a glob of black shimmering fabric materialized out of nowhere. A tall old wizard, that vaguely resembled Dumbledore himself, crouched next to Harry, wearing a tender expression. The next thing Harry heard before he lost consciousness was an unrecognizable voice saying _'Obliviate'_ in a pained whisper.

IiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIi

November brought a breakthrough in Harry's Elemental magic. Harry didn't know what it had been, but he had apparently slipped and hit his head in the entrance hall on Halloween because a frantic Ervy had stumbled over him just minutes after his friend had gone into the house. Ever since that day, Harry had started to anticipate the prickling of his skin as the energy itself and had been able to control the flame of a candle quite easily. By the end of November, Harry could light a futon on fire in the white room and Remus would then smother the angry flames in a swift wand wave.

Sirius, who had discovered his godson's abilities during a particularly vicious nightmare in which he had accidentally burst all the windows in his room, was difficult to discern about what he made of the whole mess.

Remus had likely spoken to the animagus about it afterwards because Sirius had woken up the morning after with smudges of black beneath his eyes and an incessantly chipper attitude, most likely in a misguided attempt to seem like he wasn't unnerved by it.

Remus concerned acceptance made him feel a lot better. Sirius' reaction seemed an awful lot like trying to dress up a dirty mop with ribbons. Needless to say, Harry wasn't convinced that any of them, himself included, could even begin to grasp what it would mean in the long run. Dwelling on it was not an action Harry wanted to take, under any circumstances.

"Merry Christmas!" Sirius cheerfully handed Harry a mug of Holiday mead.

"Certainly not!" Remus chided, grabbing the mug from Harry's hand, seemingly oblivious to his friend's childish pout.

"I'll give you a taste of mine," Sirius said in a conspirational whisper when Remus turned his back in order to watch Bruce set up the small telly that Croxley had tweaked to work within the manor.

"I have exceptional hearing," Remus had the foresight to mention before Sirius could bring the alcohol down for Harry to taste.

"Blast! We've been found out," Sirius said in a stage whisper, slinging an arm around Harry. "Up for another round of chess, kiddo?"

"No thanks, Sirius," Harry declined quickly, tired of losing at chess for one day and self-consciously pulling his sleeves down. By some miracle, or lucky ignorance, his godfather still hadn't seen the terrible scars on his torso. Sirius had asked about his relative's home only once, in which he had thoroughly been brushed off .

Without missing a step, Sirius asked a willing Remus to play against him.

Christmas had passed days ago, uneventful compared to the last since all three males were now permanent fixtures at the manor. The Daily Prophet had written an article in early December stating that the foul creatures that protected Azkaban prison had demanded the ministry check all their magical sensors and logs for tampering. After they had found that data had been corrupted, the minister ordered a sweep of all personnel, which included Mr. Weasley. All employees were being subjected to unannounced home visits, owl tracking, and Floo tapping.

For Harry, it meant that he had been completely forbidden from seeing a hair off any Weasley's head. This meant no presents and no gifting. At all. Then, to add insult to injury, Lucius Malfoy, right snot-faced dolt that he was, had suggested that they were looking for Remus in an interview. Currently, Harry, Remus, and Sirius were holed up together for good, with only Dumbledore and Bruce to see to their outside needs.

They were all slowly going mad.

The only relief came with lessons and training, which both Sirius and Remus had efficiently immersed themselves in. Their duels and fights in the white room were more than exciting to witness. Bruce, however, had said he wasn't even near ready to even entertain the thought of partaking.

But the worse thing of all was that Ervin Kippling had dropped off the face of the earth. He hadn't come to lessons in two weeks, saying he was sick, and Harry was worried something terrible.

"Remus, I set yer flask of Wolfsbane in the kitchen since ya said Dumbledore's supplier couldn't produce any this month."

"I thank you, Bruce," the werewolf said politely while moving his rook.

Bruce averted his eyes when Harry sought his gaze, using the excuse of finding a channel that worked on the small telly. The couch dipped as Harry sat and drew his knees to his chest, the fire crackling as a log shifted.

A Muggle news broadcast came on:

_  
"American scientist and business mogul, Dr. Kevin Denoel, sole-creator of the multi-million dollar Whiz technological corporation, is currently visiting London. He has yet to disclose his agenda; though it is rumored he has been spotted with his wife at a restaurant with trade giant Jasmine Mekanoro and a mysteriously dressed male acquaintance by the name of Mr. Malfoy. This could mean a partnership, and if were accurate, very exciting prospects for the business world." _

"Hey! That's Croxley," Harry exclaimed just as Bruce changed the channel, "why was he with Malf-…" The rogue's eyes flashed as he ignored Harry's outburst.

"Bruce…Isn't that-…" Harry snapped his mouth shut and furled his brow. Bruce had never treated him like that before. There were times when the rogue's eyes got dark, when his hands quaked so hard he would excuse himself to the bathroom to return with a grin, but he never got angry or otherwise in front of him. It unnerved Harry and he glanced at his godfather and guardian, wondering if they had caught what had just happened.

The oblivious pair caught his eyes and smiled when Harry nodded his head after he was asked if he was doing alright.

Bruce was once again crouching on the floor and staring at the screen with a peculiar expression that most people wore when they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. After a few moments, Bruce made a sudden movement and flicked his wand at the wireless.

Jurka the Hag was reporting a murder that had occurred in the Muggle village off the outskirts of Hogsmeade station.

**  
"Warning: this breaking news is not for children or those light of heart. Just in: Months ago, nine-year-old Muggle, Timothy Benson, fled to the police station and confessed to brutally murdering his own parents with a brick. The child was hysterical and when they left him in a cell for the night, the next day he was found dead of asphyxiation, apparently by his own pillow. The ministry of magic was alerted to the residence by a single levitation spell that had occurred there. It is now known that the levitation spell was performed in the family shed, where they housed rabbits. All animals were found in a severe state of decomposition and hanging from the rafters."**

**"This case was labeled confidential until its recent release to the public. Mad-Eye Moody was on record with this: 'As of right now, we've ascertained that this was indeed an act by a deeply disturbed young boy and we feel that the detectors may have malfunctioned. The ministry of magic sees fit to remove themselves from this case, as it is now in full Muggle jurisdiction.'"**

**"Jurka the Hag will now be taking your calls to get your take on this. Just pick up your wands and cast the transmission charm."**

**"Yes, this is Syler, and I only have one thing to say, what with this relentless fog: Dementors. They spread their nasty thoughts and were affecting them Muggles. For Merlin's sake, it's the bloody holiday! I'll take that coward Black over those foul-…"**

**"Again, this is Jurka the Hag, and for legal reasons, I am being informed to stress that the opinions of our callers do not represent the opinions and beliefs of this station."**

**"Melvin here…I've got a reserve for a herd of Mefflerdins and I can't believe that we as wizards are listening to this Muggle nonsense when we have an unprecedented amount of our own magical creatures falling ill and dying. My fields are fuller of corpses than livestock!! Whose investigating this anomaly?!"**

**"I'm Jycep and I wanna hear what Albus Dumbledore's got to say about all this. He seems awfully quite while the ministry is running around like chickens with their heads cut off."**

**"I go by Neddle. They've got that American wizard Denoel using his weirdo techno-magi gadgets and what not to help them point fingers at their employees. I work at a minor department, yet we had Aurors drop by during my daughter's birthday! What's untoward about a five-year-old's birthday? Is the murdering bastard Black going to pop out of the cake?!"**

"Bruce, please change the station," Remus told the rogue.

The older wizard complied with the request, though he seemed to be in a sort of daze. Harry got the feeling that they had all momentarily forgotten he was in the room.

"The nerve of that man! What kind of bloody name is Syler anyway? How dare he call me a bloody coward!"

"Sirius, I'm astounded that you've been called a myriad of offensive terms and 'coward' is the one that gets you," Remus said in a voice of exasperated fondness.

"Yes, well 'murdering bastard' at least suggests that there might have been a chance I wasn't really a Black."

Harry concealed a smile as he once more stared into the flames. He felt almost sick to his stomach about what had happened to the poor Muggle family. It seemed like the ministry was covering up whatever had really happened. Was it even possible for an eight-year-old to commit murder, and with a brick?! It seemed unbelievable. Harry now wished that the adults hadn't let him hear the broadcasts at all because it was far too terrible, so twisted.

Then his thoughts shifted to whether he should he tell his guardians about having met Croxley, about the fact he had dined out with someone who was either Lucius Malfoy or had the same name. And what on earth could any of them be doing on Muggle telly. They were wizards! It just didn't make any kind of sense.

"Stop that, lad. Yer giving yer guardian worry lines with yer sulking." The couch dipped as Bruce sat next to him and spoke quietly. Harry could see Remus and Sirius sneaking glances at him from the corner of his eye. "Best ya forget all about it. Won't do ya any wee bit of good."

"It's a secret isn't? Are you angry I know?" Harry asked tentatively, staring intently at his hands.

"Denoel made a mistake by showing his face ta anyone and he placed ya in danger by doing it. I'm not angry with ya, lad, I'm angry with d' situation. No doubt he'll get a skinning from his superiors fer this."

"Oh."

"I made ya something." Bruce produced a leather-thong necklace with a gold pendant from his pocket. It looked much like the one his mind healer had given him on the day of his court appearance. Bruce tied it in a knot behind his neck and instructed, "This has runes and protection on it that will protect ya if ya let them. Never take this off, alright?"

"I won't. Thanks, Bruster." Harry smiled in gratitude and observed the runes, his eyes widening when he saw what symbol was engraved into the gold. It had a sun with rays radiating all over the edge, a crescent moon within, and seven stars harbored within the remaining space of the sun. It was just as Ginny had described from gravestone of her friend's mother.

"Somethin' the matter?" Bruce asked while his body was unnaturally tense.

Should he say something? It wasn't really his business and if maybe that women had been part of Bruce's team of whatever he was than he might make his tutor sad by bringing it up. Harry just didn't see any positives to confronting the man. So, he opened the collar of his shirt and let the cool metal touch his bare chest without another word.

"No. Nothing." Harry really did hope that it wasn't as he looked away from Bruce's hard gaze.

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January of the New Year seemed to merge with February. Lessons continued and Bruce stepped down as his physical trainer, leaving a surprisingly healthy and thrilled godfather to make him stronger. Various new articles began to publish speculation on Harry's whereabouts, even harassing Harry's primary school enough to get them to release a school photograph of him at age six.

Unfortunately, Harry had looked no more than three in the picture and now every editorial was commenting on his adorably sad expression. There had been no mention of his relatives at all, which wasn't a surprise since the case was sealed for Harry's protection.

Sirius had kept the picture and Harry could tell he had wanted to ask about it. His unusually quiet godson had finished his meals very quickly that day, relaying the message that the topic was not on neutral land.

By mid-February, after a destructive lost of control while overhearing a heated discussion between all three men relating to Ervy's lessons, Harry was finally getting out from under the bout of depression and nightmares his seclusion had caused. That a tiny bit of betrayal had taken its place was of no matter.

They had deliberately lied to him just so that his friend wouldn't find out he was Harry Potter. Sirius and Remus had gotten into a tremendous argument with Bruce about their charge's emotional state, ending with a compromise to bring Ervy back only if he agreed to be placed under a powerful jinx that would forbid him from speaking about anything relating to his friend.

Bruce had stormed off, absolutely furious with their decision, though he had returned the next day begrudgingly admitting that he was going to readjust the wards so that Ervy could use the Floo without a danger of something going awry between one of the portals. Afterwards, he had removed himself as a tutor, though he still returned every other week to bring them anything they needed. Sometimes Harry wondered if Bruce was just going to stop coming all together, that Harry wouldn't see him ever again. For some reason, whether it was the new distance he was keeping from Harry or the way his eyes shifted around the room, it seemed like his old tutor was slipping away from them.

In March, Harry and Ervy were reunited. After a hug, which had resulted in both boys wrestling in the aftermath, the seven-year-old had treated Harry no different than he had before. Like many things, they acted as if no time at all had passed. Most mornings were spent in lessons, afternoons were for playing outside and following the endless treasure hunt that Harry hadn't felt up to continuing in his friend's absence, and then Harry's friend would go home. Sirius would then make him swim, run, and climb trees; in short, have fun. The charms that Remus reluctantly placed on him during these specific lessons made sure Sirius didn't see anything Harry didn't want him to see.

Remus had stressed that the longer he kept it hidden, the more Sirius would be hurt. But while a part of Harry trusted that his own godfather would not see him as disgusting, Harry was ashamed of the scars. No amount of counseling could help erase the unease the boy felt when he looked at them directly. The panic that coursed through his veins at just thinking that his past would chain him forever to the bloodied image he would cower from in dreams...it was too much. It was better to only let them see who he was now, so they didn't have to see who he had been. Harry preferred it that way too, even if his nightmares didn't.

In the evening, Remus would provoke him and Harry would have to control himself from using his elemental abilities. Remus hadn't had the heart to let Sirius do it himself, so his godfather was left to smooth out the atmosphere by stressing that it was only an exercise and that Remus really wouldn't treat him so coldly in reality. Harry usually felt worse for Remus, who usually enclosed himself in the library afterwards with a withdrawn expression. It was hurting them both, especially after the closeness they had almost achieved in the last year.

They had discovered soon enough, much to Harry's embarrassment, that he had a very explosive temper. It wouldn't have been so bad if his control of magic didn't flee with his calm reasoning. Harry worried that if he didn't control it sufficiently by the end of the year, he'd never get to see Ron or Ginny again, or even go to Hogwarts. It was too high of a risk that he could really hurt someone, and the thought alone scared him.

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"Harry, can we not play with the book today?" Ervy quietly asked him one spring afternoon, after they had found a memory box under blooming magnolias.

Harry carefully pocketed an old dictation quill and looked up at his friend, "What do want to do?"

Ervy grinned and grabbed his hand, his small one unusually clammy. "Come on!"

There was no stopping Ervy once he got excited; anyone who tried would be inflicted with the most heartbreakingly sad pout. It could make anyone feel like a prat in seconds. The fact of the matter was that the expression was as genuine as Ervy's bright smile. When he was with Ervy, he wouldn't miss the Weasleys to such a terrible degree that he always did.

After setting out a clay pot and several vials and pouches in a clearing behind the cover of several trees, Ervy informed him, "I'm gonna teach you how to make a potion for this." He held up the quidditch glove that had once belonged to Harry's dad. "I didn't have much else to do all these months so I thought of this mixture of belladonna, billywig stingers, fluxweed…" he drifted off with a giggle after he caught sight of Harry's dazed expression.

"I really don't think I'm meant for this," Harry admitted, taking a look at a glass container full of a disgustingly slimy substance that resembled liver. He wrinkled his nose at it.

"I promise it'll be fun." Ervy smiled, his eyes suggesting that he was finding his friend's expression quite amusing. "Besides," Ervy said, dropping two pinches of beetle legs into the clay pot, "it can be our thing, just like your dad had his friend for the journal." He averted his eyes, worrying his body lip. "They were more like brothers than anything. I bet it was hard, whoever he was, when your dad went away forever." The seven-year-old bent over his cauldron and Harry noticed when tears fell over the beetle legs. "Oh, no…I've ruined it. So stupid…I-I can't."

They pot fell over when Ervy stood and turned away from Harry, his body collapsing, thin limbs drawing close.

Harry felt his stomach twist.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ervy sobbed. "I just wanted someone to miss m-…why should I want that?!"

"Ervy?" Harry touched the little boy's back, speaking softly. He was shaking so bad, his skin much too cold while it was so warm out. Harry buried this, too, because Ervy was all he had right now, because he'd rather be like Sirius. It was all okay, truth was miscellaneous, facts were vicious monsters that left sufferers weak.

Ervy rounded on him, his face blotchy, round eyes searching Harry's face for any revulsion. He deflated before the older boy, finding only desperation. "I'm sorry…" Ervy looked away, hurriedly wiping his face as if he was ashamed, "I don't get like that, not ever." The seven-year-old forced an unsteady smile. "Please forget it. It's pointless to make others sad with tears when you can make them stronger with smiles. I'm so thick I-..."

"Oi!" Harry placed a hand on Ervy's hair and ruffled it in the affectionate way that Remus and Sirius always did, wishing his fingers would stop digging into his palms. "Don't ever speak that way about my little brother again."

Suddenly, Ervy sprung his arms around Harry and held on tight just as the older boy patted his back awkwardly. Wetness on Harry's shoulder signaled silent tears. Harry's throat constricted in a way it never had before.

He wanted so badly to watch out for the small seven-year-old, who smiled so bright on a face so pale, to protect him. Both of them were like two cracked eggs, slipping inside their own shells of normality, retaining what they had gotten from the other.

"How long will it take to make? You're only here for the weekend."

The seven-year-old gently extricated himself from Harry's embrace, wiping his eyes with his oversized shirt sleeve, and smiled coyly. "I've never made it before. But I know how to neutralize the potion for storage before coming back to it."

"What does it do exactly?" Harry rolled his eyes heavenward when Ervy snapped his mouth closed and the corner of his mouth curled upwards. "You're not going to say, are you?"

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"What's wrong, Ervy?" With delicate strokes, Harry mixed in the crushed rose petals to the simmering liquid, giving it three more counter-clockwise strokes for every six. It was April so all the flowers were in full bloom outside.

"It should feel thicker with that; the oil in the petals reacts to the base in the powdered Mefflerdin horn." Ervy's grey eyes watched the movement before flickering for just a second towards the room door. He carefully lowered the temperature of the enchanted Bunsen burner and pulled out a neutralizing perfume he had nicked from his father's stores from out of his rucksack, spraying excessive amounts towards the door.

"Don't avoid the question."

The seven-year-old mussed his hair, careful to not let any loose strands near the Dragon scale extract he was carefully measuring into a porcelain crucible. "It's nothing. There was this stocky man that gave me the creeps when I left home yesterday."

"Really? What'd he look like?" The potion made a bizarre suctioning sound when the extract was added. By his younger friend's pleased expression, Harry gathered that it was a good thing.

"Grubby, pointed nose, small watery eyes…I only saw him for a second because he pulled his robes over himself. Something about him…he was all shifty, it didn't feel right."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"No, but I followed him. He turned into this alley and a black cat hissed at me, I think I disturbed its hunt 'cause he tried to claw under the dumpster afterwards. I got a bit spooked about it all and ran out."

"Maybe you should tell someone," Harry suggested indecisively.

Ervy shrugged. "Well, I just told you, didn't I? Besides, there's nothing anyone can do anyway. I might have just been imagining… Oh, this is a good place to stop." The little boy deliberately put the burner on low heat and grabbed a shimmering white handkerchief from the ground, putting it over the mouth of the clay pot after dusting the surface of the potion with a glittery black powder. The potion stopped all movement and Harry watched in fascination, though he had seen it many times before, as the seven-year-old pressed the fabric right over the brim and sealed them together.

"I love magic,' Harry exclaimed.

Ervy smiled, stowing the items away into his rucksack which had a shrinking charm on the inside. He sprayed some of the perfume on himself, from head to toe, before instructing Harry do the same. "Let's go find your dog, Harry, we'll play with him just a bit before we tuck in for dessert."

"Yeah, we can ask Remus to transfigure outfits to dress him up again." It was a running prank to dress him up when he couldn't transform and have him chase them around the house. Both boys had quickly learned which routes would lead to dead ends.

"Really?! I like the troll costume best." The boy hurried to open the door in order to find Harry's poor godfather. Sirius would not be thrilled. Maybe when Ervy left tomorrow Remus wouldn't foil every one of his agitated godfather's attempts at retaliation like he had all the other times.

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"Hold up the shield, Harry," Remus instructed calmly for the fifteenth time in under hour.

"It's heavy!" Harry protested, arms shaking, as he blocked another low-level stinging hex.

The werewolf raised his wand and flicked three hexes in rapid succession, his face expressionless as the shield trembled and his charge fell to his knees. Once more, just as Harry was struggling to his feet, he shot out three others.

"Stop!" Harry shouted. "I can't anymore." The ten-year-old shuddered at the cold stare he got from Remus, so detached. His ragged breath slowed as he made himself into a ball and hid behind the enchanted metal shield.

"Get up," Remus said, like he was speaking to a stranger.

Harry knew he needed to be angry, his ability went haywire went he was fully submerged in the overpowering emotion. But why couldn't he get a break? He was so tired of it. The boy ducked as Remus began firing spells again, wincing when a stinging hex ripped his shirt at the shoulder. When he saw an opening he tried to make a dash for the door, with every intention of walking out.

Remus Apparated in front of him and sealed the door, casting _'Tarantallegra'_ on his legs. "I didn't say it was over, Harry."

At the moment, his young charge hated him.

"Take it off!" Harry shouted when his legs worked past exhaustion, his heart beating so fast he thought it would just stop.

Remus' face looked calm still, peering down at Harry as if he was a very small insect. "Why would I do that, Harry?"

In Harry's head, this wasn't Remus. It was like someone would take over his body because, from the time he would step into the room to when he would be dismissed, no amount of pleas, exhausting falls, or successful deterring would get his guardian to show any kindness. And while Harry's brain supplied that this was the same Remus Lupin, that he was trying to help him, the stinging hexes, carelessness, and taunting managed to make him angry to the point that he couldn't even see straight, let alone remember the fact.

Harry fumed when the older wizard released the spell and shot two stinging hexes at the ten-year-old's arm.

"Are you aware that the shield was behind you?" Remus announced calmly.

"No. You said you wouldn't use that spell today, you promised." Harry's anger mounted as Remus continued to keep his face absolutely blank.

"I lied."

Picking up his shield, Harry was now shaking with anger. The shield was a lot lighter than it had been for nearly the whole lesson.

"You might enjoy being informed that I, in fact, cast a charm on that shield to have the mass increase as the lesson progressed."

Power trickled down Harry's spine, heat at his fingertips, the shield's metal turned to liquid in his palm, burning him. With a loud metal crash it fell to the floor, and Harry tried to control his breathing, closing his eyes as Remus' wand pressed into his forehead and sent a hex that made his ears twitch uncontrollably.

"It's warm in here, Harry. Can you recall when I said it should never get to this point? It'll be noticeable to anyone around you that you are the cause and they will devour you and leave you in shreds at the vicious hands of the press," said the man tersely.

"I know that!" Harry shouted, still trying to concentrate. It was so enticing to let go, Harry's body was demanding it. It had been far too long. When his moving ears started to distract him, an ice cold jet of water hit him in the face.

Remus stood there, wand dripping, his arms crossed, watching Harry sputter. "We only have four months left before Hogwarts, Harry. It may have escaped your notice, but we are in the month of May."

It was all his fault! The lesson was too long, he wanted–no, he _needed_ to let go! Yet, he wasn't being allowed to. Anger swelled within him. The other man had no idea what it felt like!

"Return the torches to normal immediately," Remus said in the same cold tone of voice.

The boy glared daggers at him.

The room spun and Harry heard a muffled groan of pain.

"Aguamenti!" Remus said, his voice sounding like his old self. The alarm went off and the younger boy focused on the sensation of Remus blocking the flow of elemental energy, almost effortlessly. Though Harry's attack could cause a lot of damage, a capable adult wizard could easily disrupt the weak points in the immature flow of energy.

Harry had to double his efforts in making his anger go away. After several minutes, he opened his eyes to find the werewolf transfiguring a duvet into a cloak, covering a singed sleeve.

The young wizard gasped in horror when he realized what he had done. "I'm so sorry-…"

"I cast glamours, since your shirt is torn," his guardian interrupted him. "Your old scars should stay hidden for half an hour. I'll come by your room then to heal any wounds you may have obtained." Remus opened the door and without turning back said, "Don't worry too much, Harry," before walking off.

It was so unfair that his guardian could immediately block Harry's lost of control, yet he wouldn't actually do it until the end of the lesson came. The man could at least make sure Harry didn't unintentional harm him, if not for his own benefit, but for his charge's guilt.

However, Harry could voice none of this because his stupid mouth would then go off to shout other hurtful things. Like last Saturday, when the alarm had gone off announcing the end of the lesson, Harry had stumbled to the ground and Remus had tried to catch him. His guardian had recoiled and retreated to his room after Harry had screamed that he hadn't wanted to be touched. It was much too hard to switch off his anger at times.

"Close the door, Sirius." Harry could hear Remus tell his godfather upstairs.

"We need a healer, Moony. It's a bad burn, and by now I think we both have figured out that no spells or remedies will fix it up," Sirius insisted.

"It's not as bad as it appears to be."

"Really? By the looks of it, you're in for one hell of a night."

The next thing the ten-year-old heard were indistinguishable muffled voices. Remus had shut the door again, in an attempt to prevent Harry from hearing the extent of his injuries.

The exhausted ten-year-old mopped the sweat off his forehead, feeling miserable. The white room now smelled of singed flesh and Harry felt even worse. He couldn't even blame it on Remus, who strained himself to go against his nature just for Harry's sake, because he cared. The entire situation was terrible, yet all of them were trapped in its spun web, just like they were being held by the outside world inside Potter manor.

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Remus felt of twinge of discomfort when he moved to sit on the chair next to Harry's bed, feeling the fabric of his shirt rub against the long burn on his arm. It had been a miscalculation on his part that had prevented him from seeing just how close he had been to the far wall.

So small, he wondered, grasping Harry's hand in his and examining the reddened tips for signs of prolonged damage. The boy's magic was already working to heal most of it. Dabbing a generous helping of salve to stave of any infection, he brought his eyes up and sighed when the child's eyes darted away from his. Ah, yes, the guilt. He wouldn't be Harry Potter without feeling the need to take responsibility for any harm anyone associated with him encountered.

"We've discussed this various times before," he told him, speaking softly, damming the Muggles for their atrocious treatment. "Those lessons are unorthodox; I am deliberate in my attempts to get you to lose control. I accept the consequences of my actions. I am an adult, Harry, and as your guardian, I have concluded that this is the best solution for your training regiment. It entails that while in that room I will not penalize you for what you may say. This oversight will never extend beyond that room, and that, I hope, is what you understand."

The child nodded, leaning into Remus' hand as he tenderly brushed the unruly nest of hair away from his face, exposing the lightning-shaped scar. "I get it," Harry said quietly, "even if I'm sorry you're hurt."

"No apologies are necessary, as you well know. It is enough for me that you feel regret in causing harm to another person; some do not possess such decency."

"Remus?"

"What is it?"

"Is Bruce…is there something wrong with him?"

"That…" Remus searched for what to say. "Bruce is a complicated man, he has had a very trying life and he, too, has abilities that he does not desire."

"Really?"

"Yes. But I am not at liberty to discuss it, and you are not at liberty to ask. People deserve some level of privacy, and we must all respect him enough to let him have it."

"Okay," Harry said sleepily.

"Get some rest; I believe Sirius has every intention of waking you up early for practice, now that Ervin is staying over in the evening, due to a business venture in Venice where his parents were needed."

"Isn't a full moon the day after?" The child yawned after asking the question and Remus' hands stilled.

"Unfortunately, my regular supplier is unable to send me my potions, so I may be out a while if I can't get a hold of Bruce tonight."

"He hasn't let us down yet." Harry had a point, even if the rogue was being standoffish most of the time.

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Later the next day, Sirius picked Harry up, hauling him over his shoulder and tickling the boy. Harry roared with laughter, wriggling in place, eyes happy. Sirius stopped, growing quiet, the smile fading from his face.

Harry's rumpled shirt had ridden up, his sleeves coming up to reveal an endless web of pink scars. Some of them looked like burns with a strange pattern, like an imprint of sorts. Sirius' eyes flashed darkly, overcome with a horrible pain in his chest that made him absolutely furious.

"Sirius? Please, let me go." Harry was pleading, looking scared and panicked at the wizard's deranged expression. "Don't…please, don't."

The animagus drew back as if he had been burned; not having realized that he had been holding Harry down. "What are those?" he forced out, his lips tight, eyes wild.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said quickly, backing away, covering all of his hated scars as fast as he could.

"It does to me!" Sirius ejected indignantly. Making an effort to look less mad, Sirius relaxed his features. "Tell me, Harry."

Harry scrambled to his feet and tried to run out before Sirius blocked his way and lifted an arm in an attempt to comfort the distraught boy.

The child flinched violently, not making a sound, and Sirius' stomach dropped. His heart felt like it had been struck with a dark curse. He moved out of the way. That's all he had needed to know. Oh, Gods…please, no. "Go downstairs to your guest, Harry. I need to clarify some things with Remus," the animagus said stiffly.

When his godson was nowhere in sight, Sirius stormed towards the study.

"Why didn't you tell me, Remus?!" he bellowed, face a storm.

Startled, Remus dropped his book and stood, furrowing his brow. "Siriu-…"

"Answer the bloody question! Why in the hell would he flinch away as if he expected to be harmed?!" Sirius ranted. He blew a deep breath, seemingly deflating before his friend. "His body is covered in scars…" he covered his eyes, "he looks like he's been through hell and back," he finished despairingly.

When Remus didn't answer him, Sirius looked up with a glower. Remus had collapsed back into the chair and had his head in his hands.

Hesitating, Sirius idly asked his next question, feeling like a monster because he figured a one-off would have been better than years of torment. "It wasn't…with the moon?"

Remus sad eyes flickered to hurt before he stood angrily. "I'd die before I'd ever let that happen," the werewolf said sharply, livid. His wand was held tightly in his hand and red sparks flew out of the end as he bit out, "You go too far, Sirius."

Sirius had only seen his friend look so close to losing control once, when he had found out that his own friend had led Snape into the Whomping Willow those years ago. It had been another case in which he had let himself act selfishly at the werewolf's expense. Sirius wasn't proud of this. Then again, he had rarely seen fit to voice his boundless insecurities, seeking, more often than not, to act as if they didn't exist at all. "That was uncalled for," he admitted weakly, passing a hand through his hair, the wind on his sails dissipating into nothingness.

"Yes, it was," Remus agreed tersely, body stiff.

"I had thought…you-…" the tremor was just as audible as the wave of regret that washed out the rest of his fumbled speech. The question was tangible, even as it remained unspoken.

"No, not until the last year." A coil of shame burned Remus after saying this so bluntly, watching Sirius' expression crumble.

"You've kept this from me."

"I merely agreed to let Harry decide for himself," Remus said weakly before the overall situation snapped together. "Harry!" He jumped out of his seat, instructing over his shoulder, "Transform! You don't understand…if he misinterpreted your reaction for disgust, he may…he is still very fragile about this."

Minutes later, Remus was turning over every cupboard in the house, a large black dog sniffing a trail behind him. "Harry!" he called again, his gut twisting painfully when no answer came.

"Moony, the Floo, he used it," Sirius said gravely, once more in human form, his eyes darting around the room wildly. "Harry's gone," he whispered as if not understanding the words.

IiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIiIi

They were both a convoluted mess of emotions, even two days later. Dumbledore was using their Floo, reaching contacts. Tea before them lay cold, untouched, both pairs of eyes drawn to the object on the table.

Found just outside of Hogwart's gate, a sleeve, torn from the shirt Harry had been wearing when he had disappeared. The cloth bore the dark mark, written in what the headmaster had announced was rodent blood. Sacrifices were used in countless dark rituals; which meant it was hardly anything to go by since it was already implied that Death Eaters were involved.

To make matters worse, no one had heard from the Kipplings since they had arrived at the conference in Venice. They had disappeared, just as their son had with Harry. Nothing was coming together at all. It was like they were missing crucial pieces to a jigsaw puzzle.

Sirius stood abruptly. "I can't just sit here and do nothing!" he shouted, pacing the length of the dining room, his hands shaking.

Remus didn't have the strength to say anything. The pair of them hadn't slept in days... How could they? Harry was kidnapped, taken from right under their noses, wards undisturbed. There were no explanations, no telling what he was currently having to endure, if he was already…already dea-… Remus perished the thought by sheer will, his heart wrenching.

Here they were, in the room where the Potters had once sat for happy meals full of laughter, and they seemed just like lost souls trying to rapidly pick up the bread crumb trail home before night fell. It was a mockery, the end result, and it did nothing to quell the drowning inadequacy. An insecure werewolf, a tormented convict, and an abused orphan had inexplicably intertwined their fates to each others

Remus knew, as certain as he knew that the same was true for Sirius, that he wouldn't survive this particular hurdle if the ten-year-old didn't. Life now seemed surreal in its cruelty, and Remus was thankful that the walls continued to be blank from the ghosts already haunting its trod-upon floors.

His musing ended when a loud disturbance suddenly shook the walls of Potter manor. Sirius was right at his heels, wand drawn. Both men were unprepared to see Bruce being thrust against a wall by a man in black garb. A fist connected with the rogue's jaw, and he wasn't even fighting back.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dumbledore asked from the staircase, with admirable calm.

"I merely brought yer spy out to play, headmaster," Bruce said slowly, his eyes crazed, ignoring the wand pressed to his temple and smiling.

"Remus, Sirius, lower your wands." Dumbledore stepped forward and pressed his hand to the wand tip of the fuming Death Eater's, bringing it down. "Relax, Severus," he addressed him.

"Severus," Sirius mouthed, before it dawned on him. "Bloody Death Eater scum!" he thrust his wand forward, ready to fire a spell before Remus, well aware that Dumbledore trusted the potion's master, stopped his advance.

"Black," Severus Snape growled, leaving none guessing about just how much hatred he harbored for the animagus. The man was still all crooked teeth, sallow skin, greasy hair, and hooked nose. His dark eyes flashed with fury as he curled long fingers around his wand and aimed at Sirius' heart. "I should have known that you'd be holed up with the abominable beast."

"If wands are not lowered this instant, I shall be forced to confiscate them," Dumbledore warned, none too lightly. The aged wizard seemed to radiate power as he raised his hand to halt the inevitable protest at the order. Silence instantly fell upon them, with the exclusion of the mad rogue's resulting chuckle.

Bruce turned to them, a coating of blood over his teeth. "There was a Death Eater gathering, as White Beard here very well knows." The violet of his eyes flared as he looked down at the ground, his hands quaking violently. Apparently, opting not to meet any of their eyes, he sagged against the wall. "Remus-..."

"Here you go," Remus handed the rogue some gin he had summoned from the kitchen. It was pitiful to witness such a great wizard's descent.

"There is a sound reason, Mr. Lorcan, that may provide us with a plausible answer to why you have dragged Severus Snape into Potter manor?" Dumbledore prompted when it seemed that the patience that Sirius and Snape had managed to conjure was barely hanging on by threads.

"I would also be _delighted_," Snape said with an absurd amount of disgust, "to know why I was unceremoniously abducted against my will and taken to this despicable inhabitance." Snape's dry, acerbic tones had been perfected over the years.

Without explanation, Bruce lifted his wand and summoned Harry's bloodied shirt sleeve, all eyes on him. "Let me see the mark." The bags under the bright violet eyes made him look far more deranged than usual, so Remus couldn't blame the professor for the abhorrent glare he sent towards Bruce.

"Severus-…"

"Certainly not, headmaster!" Snape spat, eyebrows drawing together in fury, appearing seconds away from unleashing the wrath of his sharp tongue.

"Harry Potter was living at this residence, with his guardians for the past year. A few days ago, he disappeared. There is much at stake," said the headmaster, obvious disquiet present in his gaze.

There was a flicker of some unrecognizable emotion across Snape's face before it changed to aggressive incredulity. It happened so instantly that Remus figured he must have imagined it. "You left the Boy-Who-Lived at the hands of these incompetent-…" the snarl was cut off by Dumbledore's stern stare.

Remus had to physically restrain Sirius from thrashing the Slytherin.

"Very well," the dour man said with unbidden disdain, looking for all the world as if they had just requested he disembowel himself. The dark mark was almost gray against the pasty skin when all caught sight of it.

Bruce moved forward, the only evidence of Harry being captured in his hand.

It happened in under a minute and left the spy shaking against the wall, blood pouring from his inky black tattoo, lips pressed tightly, the one sign that he was in excruciating pain. The shirt sleeve lay in flames on the floor.

Dumbledore spoke first," Enlighten us to the meaning of this, Mr. Lorcan."

However, it wasn't the ill-looking Bruce that spoke, who was busy downing the bottle of liquor in such a pathetic manner that Remus had to look away. It was Snape. "The Dark Lord," he said in a voice so full of contempt that any sensible child would wet themselves in mere seconds.

"Has, in some fecking sense of the word...returned," Bruce finished, angrily throwing the bottle of gin across the room so that it smashed on the floor. Glass skid across the worn stone and the room's occupants watched as they quivered and stilled.

_**A/N: Cliffy! Everyone just loves to hate them. Please review! I would also love to hear guesses. And since I practically just took you through an entire year, I'll be happily answering any questions or explaining passages that may have seemed obscure.**_


	15. Mirror Games

_**Author's Notes:**_

_I am so grateful to any readers who continue to read even after long waits between chapters. This story first started as me just attempting to write out anything, but it has really become a growing experience. I had never written anything past a page before, so this story has truly grown with me. As that occurs, however, the chapters I'm in the middle of writing turn to tens of thousands of words as I edit it. This chapter in particularly gave me substantial trouble, mainly due to the fact that I've just entered the primary writing, literature, and psychology courses pertaining to my majors. I truly want to evolve as a writer, using this as one of my mediums. Thank you for reading and my sincerest apologies for the long wait. This chapter is massive, given that I have three separate documents averaging around a hundred thousand words together for it, this little monster was greedy enough to become, I believe, the longest little beast I've written thus far. And as I was considering splitting it in two, my heart ached too much to put it through that. It pouts quite adorably, I assure you.__**++++++This is the second posting of this chapter. I re-edited correctly, I suppose.+++++++++++ Please Review...  
**_

* * *

**Mirror Games**

The iron, rubbed by desolate age, gripped until it tore past raw flesh. It bound the tendons, forming bulbs of blood at numb fingertips when the hands were flexed past their small allowance. Clinging chains, known only by their dragging weight, spread their tricking chime in layers. Darkness ran so rampant that it swallowed his hands, denied them both the indulgence of sight.

"I'm sorry, Harry…so sorry…sorry…" Harry cradled Ervy's head near his chest, where his thundering heart betrayed his calming assurances, locking his eyes.

"Stop it," he whispered, "it's going to be okay." Ervy's teeth were chattering now, because it was far too cold and dank. And Harry shuddered as he repeated, "It's all going to be okay." Perhaps if he said it enough it would cease to be a lie.

"How long?" the small boy asked, sounding so afraid of the truth that Harry nearly willed the tiny hand marking the hopeless seconds away to stop altogether.

The shackles bit painfully into his skin when he did check the time under the tiny beam of artificial light bleeding through a crack in the rafters. "Only an hour, Ervy." However, Harry's watch read eight hours; the potions that had been in Ervin's system had lasted only three.

"Just one more time, Harry." With dread, the older boy dragged his eyes to the space between the closest support columns, where an object floated before them. The glowing silver, contained only by a solid mass of shadow, was solidified like some unidentified plasma within its bounds, forming a suspended oval bathed in fluorescent light before them.

"No."

"Please."

"Fine," Harry finally conceded, "but just once." An involuntary shiver ran up like fire from his extremities when he started to feel the telltale buildup of energy that flowed through his limbs before using his ability. As Harry lit the torches on the wall, the stale air seemed to grow even more still. "Hurry," he gritted out to his friend, who immediately seemed animated despite the fact that he spent the majority of their imprisonment struggling to overcome his ravenous disease.

They had no time to examine their injuries; the silver mirror was starting to shake already, its homogeneous mix of unknown elements beginning to lose their shape and seeming to shiver in tiny ripples, pushing against its dark prison to break free. The consistency was that of Unicorn's blood, Ervy had commented, thick with the impurity of the evil wielding it.

Smothering fog began to dissipate off of the surface towards them, invoking the howling darkness of the expansive prison to swallow it, while the torch light became a sinister hue of blood red. They were beginning to see just how large their dungeon was as the red light rapidly began to expand, but then the liquid silver began to throttle the bound of shadow. Abruptly, it began to give, until Harry, breathing hard, smothered the torch flames.

"It rolled away again," Ervy whispered brokenly. Harry could hear the glass marble of Ervy's home Portkey skip across the floor away from them. Their captor had immediately taken a unique pleasure in confiscating Ervy's items and letting them watch as they were thrown about through the darkness, hidden temptations just out of their reach, offering strains of dangerous hope.

Harry didn't say anything for a long moment; heaving breaths were wreaking havoc on his forced state of denial. The impulse to give up seemed as dangerous as the pulse sizzling with aftershocks of power within his chained wrists. "We'll try later…it's not your fault," he said automatically, still watching the still, silver mass.

Without hesitation, Harry ripped off the other sleeve of his shirt, feeling the strain the simple exercise cost him both physically and mentally. He gritted his teeth against the searing pain coming from his opposite shoulder, ignoring it as he wrapped the bedraggled cloth around the freshly opened cut the manacles had made on his friend's wrist.

When the cellar door creaked open, Harry secured Ervy's hand within his own, only to realize that his own was shaking just as badly. Their kidnapper approached wearing a hooded cloak. Before they could plead for their freedom, the first curse of the round struck Ervy in the chest.

"I'll do it! I'll do it, okay?! Just don't hurt him," Harry shouted, pulling at his bonds. The sudden agony piercing through his scar had him doubled over with pain, impeding any attempt at an escape.

"Read it," the person hissed, like a petulant child who was going to do anything to get their way.

"Please, just don't hurt him anymore."

"Harry, you're scaring me…I can't understand you," Ervy cried, the comforting warmth shifting away from his side. Confused, Harry made to reassure his friend, but a blow to his temple had him banging his head against the solid stone of the wall. He knew for certain that the injury was going to bleed before it even started to seep onto his collar. Frighteningly enough, as soon as his blood made contact with the rock, the shadow of the mirror placed parallel to them grew marginally weaker.

He didn't even want to think about what that could mean. "No…no, no, no, please don't take him," Harry pleaded as their captor unchained his friend, who desperately tried to clamp the magical manacles down on his wrist again, scrambling back towards the wall, as if hoping that their cage of darkness would somehow allow them some respite.

"Don't!" Ervy cried, as he was carelessly torn from the wall.

"Leave him alone!" Harry's pleas were ignored as his friend was dragged kicking and screaming into the darkness of their expansive dungeon. The screams began to tear through the darkness mercilessly.

Their kidnapper was playing the game–Harry's refusal to participate would prove deadly to Ervy. If he did play, other people would die, and their hooded captor had no qualms about letting him know that.

When Ervy was thrown back at his side unconscious, whimpering in his sleep, Harry could smell the stench of blood and urine seeping from his tattered clothing. He bit his trembling lips to keep them from releasing his cry of anguish.

A basin and a washcloth were placed at his feet, a new pile of clothing stacked neatly and methodically next to it. Harry knew this game, too. If he wasn't washed and dressed before Ervy stirred, the other boy would receive another thrashing. The look on Ervy's face upon waking up in pain was enough to torture him worse than what he could ever receive from any amount of lashes.

* * *

_  
__Dumbledore spoke first," Enlighten us to the meaning of this, Mr. Lorcan."_

_However, it wasn't the ill-looking Bruce that spoke, who was busy downing the bottle of liquor in such a pathetic manner that Remus had to look away. It was Snape. "The Dark Lord," he said in a voice so full of contempt that any sensible child would wet themselves in mere seconds._

_"Has, in some fecking sense of the word...returned," Bruce finished, angrily throwing the bottle of gin across the room so that it smashed on the floor. Glass skid across the worn stone and the room's occupants watched as they quivered and stilled._

"Severus, have Poppy examine your arm," Dumbledore said absently, his brow furrowed. "At times, I find that the best remedy is one of a healthy slumber."

Snape's pale face twisted into a scowl while his hand pointedly applied a pressure charm to stop the flow of blood pouring from the cursed brand.

With disgust, Sirius' eyes followed the crimson rivulets as if it they were acid that would corrode the manor, stain it with filth. "Watch the floor, Snivellus," the Animagus said harshly, eyes never leaving the Dark Mark.

"Typical of you, Black; leave it to you to appropriate all the limited intellect you possess into sharing with us your prowess for the janitorial," Snape sneered. "Tell me," he raised his eyebrows to emphasize mock interest, only managing to highlight the cruelty permanently affixed to the contours of his face, "how it felt to live out your loathsome existence in Azkaban?"

"It should have been you," Sirius growled, his eyes wide with the ferocity in which he spoke.

"That's enough." Remus intervened, beyond annoyed that two grown men could pick up a childhood rivalry and elevate it so severely. "Get a hold of yourself for once in your life, Sirius," he nearly shouted when both men continued to make barbs at each other, leaving no misery unmentioned.

Every angry line on the Animagus' brow read that the statement was just about unforgivable, that he'd personally taken it as an insult that implied that the connection between their current situation and his behavior was more than just a passing thought on his part. Remus had, in fact, been thinking along the lines but he hadn't meant to verbalize it quite in that manner. He knew he wouldn't be able to take it back when Sirius' quaking worsened with a ragged exhale, as if the very air had suddenly grown cold and thin. And in that moment, he wasn't so sure he wanted to.

"Don't you dare for a second pretend as if you're anywhere near perfection," Sirius said under one frozen breath.

The glass made the crunching sound that set Remus' nerves on edge as it was deliberately crushed under Sirius' boot, the gin branching out like a spun spider web all around it. The man never lost eye contact once, not even as he dragged his heel down on the shards once more, unwilling to even utter the destructive accusation.

It was all Remus could do not to flinch; because his best friend wanted to say it, to put the feeble standing of their friendship as on the line as Harry's life seemed. Just like Sirius wouldn't verbalize why Remus was so certain that a bottle of gin three quarters gone had been hiding under the loose floorboard--three paces from the door and six across from the stove-- the werewolf couldn't drop his gaze of challenge as the line cut closer to him.

"Are you aware, Black, that you are currently still equally as worthless as the werewolf?" Snape got in, seeming pleased by how quick his old enemy was to rile. Remus caught the rapid motion of the potions master's white, tightening knuckles tugging the hem of his long sleeve down over the hated mark.

"Coming from the most pathetic person in this room, I can venture to say you've been worse than useless since your dear _master_ fell," Sirius snarled.

"You are not even worth my wand, Black." There was a pause as Snape looked over at the Animagus with an identical mix of hatred and ill wish. "But I dare say I would give anything to watch as the Dementors rip that useless soul from your body."

"Do you even have a soul left, Death Eater?" Sirius spat back darkly, placing extensive emphasis on the selected title.

"It's pitiful, Black, how fiercely you cling to your idea of evil, how desperately you place faces to every one of your own defects. You are the heir to the Black throne, you reveled in your place of aristocracy, and you dared raise your nose to those you marked because you knew very well the spells they practiced, the magic you were taught to cast," said Snape softly, the timbre of his voice steeped with menacing tones. "Hypocrisy is what I least tolerate," he finished.

It was instantaneous: Sirius drew his wand from his holster just as quickly as Snape thrust his chest in front of the tip. "Do it, Black, I am unarmed…this is almost…_nostalgic,_" he goaded, his lip curled, appearing even more elated that his hated enemy looked so utterly near the brink of madness itself.

"Expelliarmus!" Remus shouted just in time to stop the Animagus from finishing the upwards flick necessary for the particularly heinous hex he had been moments from casting. "Harry is missing, Sirius; at least make a half decent attempt at being an adult." The werewolf could hear the steel in his own voice and he nearly winced because he knew the statement was unfair, uncalled for.

"Right," the Animagus said bitterly, turning his rage towards his friend, who had the audacity to appear so collected. "Well, I apologize for not seeing Azkaban as an ideal place to flourish. Perhaps the wise Remus Lupin can show me how the way he so _productively_ spent the last decade helped him become the outstanding individual before me." Sirius was seething, his words spewing forward with stabbing sarcasm.

They were sparring; they both knew quite well that the object of the game wasn't to win, not even close. And though what they were doing seemed petty, they needed it, craved it, and neither could identify a particular reason to explain why. It had been ages since his old friend had provoked him, sent him riling, sparked within him that fire for argument that jaded middle-aged men tended to lose.

Sirius had always been one to revolt violently against the walls of society, disabusing anyone of the notion of predictability, brandishing his arrogance and skill in a way that not only seemed inoffensive but somehow endearing. When James' parents had died of illness within months of each other, it had been Sirius who had concocted a wild tale about how he'd thought the late Mrs. Potter had fancied him. It had ended with the Animagus nursing a broken nose and a sobbing James at his feet, who had managed to finally mourn the loss of his parents due to his best friend's interference. Sirius had never had any qualms about incriminating himself in preposterous situations as long as it was for a worthy cause.

"Yes, and as always, you are the epitome of goodness and productivity..." Remus drifted off, knowing full well that Sirius' deepest insecurity was to be forced to carry the stigma associated with his blood. It was the most aggravating thing about Sirius, his unflinching view of reversed prejudice–his tendency to close his mind off when he so much as smelled the Dark Arts. Perhaps, Remus conceded, Snape held some ground of truth. Even so, for the Animagus to take all he had been, or rather, how he'd barely existed during those years, to twist it with mocking–he couldn't imagine a darker ache. "You've no right to judg--"

"Don't speak of rights to me!" the Animagus barked. "What will it be then--Mounds more of that pity you so abhor? Should we hold a count on whose life was more destroyed?!" He was breathless by the end, his eyes slowly growing lifeless, colder than Remus had ever seen them.

This had to stop. "No." Cringing that the words were coming forward unguarded, he continued on, "When are we going to reach that point where we don't instinctively brace ourselves for more, Padfoot?" Remus finally muttered quietly enough for only the other man to hear. Just how much more did they have to lose before it was enough?

The blue eyes shut closed, the Animagus running a hand through his hair in one of his rare nervous gestures. "If you would have seen fit to relay to me my own godson's past--" Sirius stopped himself, shaking with barely suppressed frustration. "I didn't mean it like that," he added when Remus recoiled.

Unimpeded, the words left a red trail of shock and regret. The Animagus had a valid point. It had been selfish to keep Sirius in the dark, criminal even. If Sirius had known, he would have been prepared; he wouldn't have reacted as he had. Harry would still be there with them. A nervous, hollow drop of his stomach made his breath catch.

"Gentlemen," the headmaster addressed them once the draw between them had cooled to an icy silence, his other palm extended towards the potion's master in an obvious gesture to quell his commenting. "This argument is hardly conductive to our purpose. Now, Mr. Lorcan, kindly explain what you meant by declaring Voldemort's return? It may be my substantially aged mind, but I was very much under the impression that the state Voldemort is currently in is incapable of taking the corporeal form necessary to abduct any child."

"The bloody monster is a convoluted mass of pieces," the rogue hissed under his breath, dark gaze meeting Dumbledore's. Remus and Sirius were both thrown aback by the headmaster's suddenly rigid frame.

"Mention none of this," Dumbledore briefed Snape firmly before fixing his attention back to the rogue.

This was a dismissal; one Snape didn't seem too fond of if the fury knitting his brows was any indication. "You expect me to heed to a dismissal when the worst has come to pass, une--"

Bruce cut in, "A hundred Death Eaters gather and I pick up the one agent miserable enough to follow yer whiles. I'm the best bet ya got." Violet eyes sealed as Bruce took steadying breaths, unaware of the spy's offended sneer. "Riddle. Will. Take. The boy," he gritted out randomly, like he was being plagued by invisible attackers from within, hunching thieves of sanity that were carving paths inside his own mind. "Ask me the fecking questions!" he roared, before he whimpered pitifully and thrust his back against the wall, his fingers digging into his temples.

Dumbledore's gaze lifted towards Snape once more.

"I will be in my quarters if you so choose to inform me about the proceedings," Snape scoffed boldly with the certainty of a man who knew the headmaster would do no such thing. "We will be meeting again," he told Bruce, who nodded kindly, as if the exchange was sealing plans on a summer tea party. "One can quickly tire of being in the presence of such despicable company." With one last glare of complete and utter loathing directed at a scowling Sirius, he spat the name of his destination with an unnecessary amount of vitriol before it carted him off.

"What did you just say?" the older wizard asked softly after Snape had gone. Behind the benign half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore's eyes glinted. "Did you just use a name, Mr. Lorcan?" the headmaster inquired with measured tones.

Bruce grinned, a trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth unnoticed. "Tom Marvolo Riddle…isn't that spot on, White Beard?" he asked with feigned curiosity. "Lamb went a wee bit astray, didn't he, shepherd?" The inherent madness on Bruce's face flared alive for just an instant, just enough to have Dumbledore turn his inquiring expression his way.

"I trusted your judgment with your friend, and from what I've surmised, Remus, this man has unlimited access to this manor, unforeseeable knowledge of things he ought not to know, and an alarmingly questionable state of mind. This man could very well be responsible for Harry's disappearance," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Two out of three, I'm afraid," came a wheezy voice from the kitchen before Remus could even begin to formulate an intelligent response.

Dumbledore had his wand expertly poised for casting a destructive spell at a moment's notice as the visage of a grizzly wizard dressed in smart, deep-green robes appeared in the kitchen doorway, his arms raised to convey the message of peace.

"I had the foresight to abandon my wand whilst I was letting myself in," the man informed them brightly as he turned the corner and approached them at a leisurely pace. "Not even I am delusional enough to believe I could ever possibly duel the great Albus Dumbledore and live to tell the tale."

"That was advisable. If not for your convenient foresight, I would have been inconvenienced into disarming you without the usual courtesy of inquiring into your true identity, my dear fellow," responded the headmaster with the same level voice, stealing a single glance at Bruce for his reaction.

"Simple Glamour charms are out then," the stranger concluded with a friendly smile. "I thought perhaps a familiar face would help this unfortunate conflict progress. I was told Elphias Doge was a dear friend." He frowned, distractedly scanning the room and settling on Bruce, who shrunk into the rough stone of the wall. "The connection was forcefully torn from you?"

"Aye, around the time I found the spy."

"Did you see anything?"

In a tone of frustration, Bruce informed him, "Fear, so pure it was that I couldn't get ta the shite I made the connection ta retrieve."

Grendal, whose voice Remus recognized from the Order of Venificus Latito, the group that had helped break Sirius out, must have been under layers of flawlessly applied Glamours for the werewolf could not even see a single misplaced blemish from the face of the old Order of the Phoenix member, Elphias Doge.

The man looked up at Dumbledore, whose wand's proximity to the other wizard's chest was the only thing that betrayed his deep concern over the situation. "May I request you dispel the Glamours, as I am unable to do it myself without the medium of a wand?"

Contemplatively, Dumbledore watched for Grendal's every movement as he easily canceled all the powerful charms. There was not a single change in the headmaster's expression when the removal of the Glamours revealed his very own face on another man's body.

"Should have told you about that, I think," Grendal said, winking good-naturedly. "Now we'll have an entire hour in which White Beard will detain me in the hopes of waiting out the metaphorical Polyjuice in my system." The man seemed thrilled at the prospect.

In a methodical manner, Dumbledore sealed every exit, looking rather too agreeable while doing such a task. While the situation may have called for a bit more forcefulness, the two men seemed perfectly willing to keep up the bizarreness of their meeting.

"You may call me Grendal if you so wish. Oh, and the latch on the top window is completely unguarded. Cere charm will do the trick, I think," Dumbledore's double supplied helpfully.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you to assist," the true Dumbledore responded. "I believe I may be able to extend the same courtesy and allow you to address me by my given name, as they say the most direct course to friendship is from the front."

"Indeed, though side entrances are most convenient in times of dire need."

It was beyond uncanny to see a replica of Dumbledore who could go along with the headmaster's unflappable demeanor so well.

"This is absurd," Sirius whispered to him, much in the way that a student does during an important lesson.

"I realize that," Remus agreed, watching as Grendal turned his foreign blue eyes towards the rogue.

"No." There was so much desperation in the rogue's voice that Remus almost felt like it was a stranger before them.

"Erhyrtia is the only way; it is all that we have," Grendal spoke sternly before deflating and looking off towards the window. "For my sake, Liam, do not attempt to make me chose your well-being over the population's."

The unexpected clamor of Bruce's gold-adorned wand joined the shattered fragments of the glass. His peculiar violet eyes dropped and he gave a pitiful nod of acceptance so rot with anguish that Dumbledore appeared momentarily conflicted about whether he was to defend the madman or let whatever was about to take place proceed. Curiosity won out.

"Lupin," Dumbledore's impostor looked straight at him, "relay to the headmaster what your research has found on Bruce. Textbook definitions on the basic corneal capabilities will be fine." It was even stranger to hear the alien voice leave Dumbledore's mouth.

With an inkling of guilt, Remus conjured his notes, trying his best to avoid Sirius' accusatory stare (he hadn't officially disclosed his findings to his friend). Sifting through the pile, he found the passage that best concluded his findings.

It felt like betrayal, lifting his wand and pronouncing, _"Legens!"_ clearly. The diction spell began to read the text aloud in a low male drone:**"Born with a single mutation of an unidentified chromosome of DNA, Erhartians have the phenotypic disadvantage of violet irises, most commonly attributed to an evolutionary adaptation that allows further protection of the eyesight, as the cornea tends to stress and bleed through involuntary use. Mana particles have the tendency to attack at the source of deepest concentration when the body endures severe physical distress–the norm in everyday life for one born with such a power. It is because of the body's revolt against its own inherited ability that Erhartians have notoriously been recorded as suffering from a most dreaded of curses.**

**The rarest stage of all is the final stage, as it is entirely up to the user to enter this level. Death itself is often preferred to the agony--a wiser choice, indeed. However, entering said stage releases energy so powerful that the Erhartian may wield it to bring those at the brink of death back to life. Merlin once wrote, "Death is eaten by choice of the heart, he thus condemns his earthly flesh to torture, his very mind forever succumbed to insanity. There is no greater sacrifice." Beyond this elective, though potentially lethal, status change in the three level processions, there are various known abilities gained by the user. This is best exemplified by the relaxed mode, seen by the normal coloration of violet irises. Information gathered from others during this state depends entirely on the emotional instability of those in close proximity. However, this daily involuntary gathering of memories causes Erhartians to suffer from severe chronic insomnia, which gradually brings about mental deterioration. REM sleep becomes nothing more but an endless nightmare of lifetimes, a chamber of intolerable horrors.**

**More importantly to mention are the properties of the active stage, which noticeably set this final level apart from the above two, and became a profound influence on the title of aforementioned ability: "erhyrtia", the Latin root word defined as the darkest part of the eye. As the eyes grow dark, the user can share with others all that he suffers. They will see his very turmoil at the price of their lives, for the body of a mortal man cannot often conceive of the notion of entertaining the conflicting turmoil of others within themselves with such vivid reality. As with all the advantages, the side effect of putting this portion of the ability to use is seen with the toil of time, when Erhartians may begin to see their memories physically manifest themselves around them, not too dissimilar from the mental ailment of Schizophrenia.**

**The opposite of a black iris, it is far more feared by some to receive an enhanced violet hue gaze, for the user can forge a bridge between minds and experience every trauma the victim may have suffered, with the ability to bring forth memories lost to the conscious mind. The connection is so discreet that most wizards may not feel when their most private affairs are seen, when the user has a chance to subjugate them to their will. Erhartians are most careful while obtaining this iron hold, for the body revolts with agony that is akin to having every nerve in the body flare as if they are being hacked away, though it may be lessened if the user decides to let the connection be known, entrap their victim's minds within its own complex vortex of feeling. If not done, suffering for the Erhartian may escalate to such a degree that magic and very ability become uncontrolled. Caution must be practiced at all costs…" **

Bruce regarded the flipping pages with a great deal of animosity, as if he all he wanted was to set them on fire. "What do ya lot think, should I have offed myself ages ago?" he spat.

The tome Remus had settled on had been one of the lighter ones on the Erhartian ability. Most of the others had gone into gruesome detail about how exactly mind deterioration could lead them to fruitless body mutilations. In fact, one of them had suggested annihilating the entire line for the sake of human courtesy, as it would put them out of their misery.

"Liam, please refrain from dark humor. By now, I had hoped we had come a long way from that," Grendal rebuked him.

The rogue made a face.

Grendal kneeled before him, completely ignoring the gesture. "Speck has devised the potion that will allow them to carry the backlash as you search for a trace of what the boy last experienced."

"Are you off yer rocker? It'll kill the lot of 'em." The rogue stood, leaning back against the wall as his center of balance shifted too quickly for his encumbered body to process. He pressed two blood encrusted digits to his eyes, crying out in pain.

"If we involve White Beard, he may weaken the experience to just about bearable," Grendal pressed, resting his hand on the other man's shoulder, before quickly retracting it as the rogue's angry expression inexplicably turned to that of grief.

"Forgive me if I am mistaken," Dumbledore started as he too noted Bruce's reaction to the touch, pausing only to look straight at Grendal, "but are you implying that he violate our minds with the copious memories as he rifles through it all for the connection he forced on Harry."

"Excuse me?" Sirius said in a low, dangerous growl. Remus quickly thrust the Animagus' wand back into his outstretched palm.

Grendal sighed heavily before addressing them. "One of Voldemort's_ 'weapons'_ was somehow unleashed upon a human host. When Liam found a lead a year ago, he was contacted by an old friend who confided that the Boy-Who-Lived had been placed in his custody with peculiar abilities. We immediately swore our protection and began to monitor him. Along the way, the boy must have had a chance meeting with the host, and most dangerously, it found him at a point of emotional weakness. It learned to corrupt his dreams, whisper falsehoods, mislead his truths..."

"Very few months ago," he continued, "on the event of All Hollows Eve, the _'weapon'_ was able to procure energy enough to use Timothy Bensen, a young Muggleborn living just off of Hogsmeade." The man shuddered, briefly lapsing into silence as he regained his composure. "The evil that took place in that house…it opened a window in which to get to Harry if he left the protections of the wards. It could control what Harry saw as reality. It was going to dismantle every protection on the child in order to control him. We were desperate enough to ask Liam to forge a connection between them, at great risk to both their lives."

"What did the connection entail?" Dumbledore asked, pensive.

"Though never having attempted it before, he was able to concentrate Harry's abilities; making it easier for the child to gain control over them, in addition to conditioning his powers to yield to the child's development. As his magical maturity was far more advanced, Liam was able to act as a barrier of sorts, gradually increasing the amount to be conquered as the child's lessons progressed."

The entire tale was disturbing. What was worse, Remus could not dispute a word of it. Bruce _had_ been the one to suggest the majority of Harry's lessons.

"We are speaking of his Elemental capabilities?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"Aye," Bruce whispered.

Remus really wasn't surprised that Dumbledore knew, not in the least bit. Looking over at Sirius, who sent him a spectacular eye roll, the other man wasn't feeling any level of shock over the old man's ability to know every equivocal happening in the world with certain confidence.

"Go on then," the rogue bit out, "let's be through with it."

"If there are no objections, I shall endeavor to explain the toil this shall have on your bodies. I must first warn you that it will be very dangerous for any of you to immerse yourself or linger on any part of a memory," he pointedly looked over at Sirius and Remus. "Perspectives will change from victim to spectator, as it is your brain's practice to attempt comprehension. You will not be given the same exact memories to work through, and I expect that you will not share the irrelevant with the rest of us." There was a serious pause as he allowed the gravity of what they were about to do sink in. "There will be foreign feelings that will not pertain to you. Under no circumstances are you going to persuade yourself to identify with it. Treat all of it with abstract thought." Grendal met their steady gazes in turn before handing them all vials of potion.

Dumbledore seemed to weigh all of his choices very carefully before he said, "There are few times in which my instincts have failed me, as I have gladly suffered the fool at times it was ill-advised, and I will do so now on good faith."

"One's folly is not necessarily another's gain, Albus," Grendal agreed earnestly. "That said…" he began on a lighter note, "I sincerely regret to inform you all that this potion is best not sniffed before consumption."

"Why is that?" Sirius asked, examining the clear vial.

"It smells quite like a rotten sock, if you catch my meaning," Grendal explained most cheerfully.

With Grendal's prompting, Dumbledore conjured a set of maroon wingback chairs for them. They sat back, Sirius and Remus sharing a nervous glance at how distressed Bruce became as the headmaster tipped the potion into his mouth.

"When you wake, it will seem all but a disconnected dream," Grendal said soothingly as Dumbledore relaxed back and shut his eyes, his breath becoming deep with sleep. The rogue was digging his nails so deep into the stone of the floor that Remus was surprised they hadn't snapped back.

"Gentlemen, drink now; I will do my utmost to draw you out if the connection becomes unstable."

They did. The last thing Remus saw as his eyes sagged closed was the bizarre gesture of familiarity Grendal made as he took the headmaster's half-moon spectacles off and placed them gently on the arm of the chair.

* * *

_**  
**_**_Hurt flooded his chest as Harr–Remus, his mind attempted to correct, only to seize up in pain. It felt like someone had just given his inner temples a good wallop. Disturbingly, Bruce's earthly smell briefly filled his nostrils before he could feel himself running again, though not truly a definable self. Strange..._**

Run, was the only thought Harry could grasp as Sirius dismissed him. A mixture of furious eyes, barely contained disgust, and disappointment swam vividly in his vision. Sirius would be so ashamed of him now. And it would only be a matter of time before everyone else followed.

**_'That's not true!' was inserted as both statements were weighed. A surge of pain abandoned the proof. _**

His breath caught as he imagined two pairs of warm, trusting eyes holding his gaze, and he wanted so badly to claim apathy, to run away from everything. The Weasleys were better off without him around to cause accidents on their property or endanger Mr. Weasleys job.

Brown eyes shone bright through his slight delirium as he struggled to calm his panicked breathing, his hands searching for the knob to the familiar cupboard before he crawled inside. Blue, friendly irises accompanied by a welcome grin, had the air vanishing from his lungs. They morphed into hatred, those eyes, revoking acceptance, pushing him further into the dangerous plummet.

A white sheet arched through the air as he threw it over himself, wanting so badly to hide.

Ron and Ginny would find a new friend… Harry's heart gave a painful lurch at the thought of Ginny showing someone else her favorite places in the world, sharing her secrets, of Ron finding someone who played chess better, who knew all about racing brooms.

It wasn't until Harry had finished burrowing into the sheets that he realized that a hand had been soothing him for minutes now without him having realized it. It must be… The ten-year-old quickly turned his head, his hope evaporating when he spotted Ervy. He was awash with guilt as soon as the thought struck him.

Soon after Ervy had been sworn to never speak a word about the manor, Harry hadn't made any effort to hide his scars. They never spoke of it. In return, Ervy had taken to opening his rucksack and drinking his potions right in front of him. When they were at play, Harry would recognize that the light had gone of the base of the trees and he would pause, retrieving potion number six from the bag, feeding it to his friend. Silence prevailed at these times, past hung in--total acceptance. No one was judged; they both had little Pandora's boxes stashed away.

Ervy traced an angry swell where Harry had scratched his skin viciously in repeated attempts to pull his sleeves down.

"They're always there," Harry confessed, because though hatred was carved into his skin, he had been trying for far too long to make them disappear, to ignore them out of existence.

"I know," Ervy whispered, his head angled down as he exposed a sickly protruding shoulder.

Harry turned away quickly, his breath catching in a whimper, betraying his blank facade. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted.

"I'm sick," the child said gently, without an ounce of self-pity or anguish.

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see inky black vessels just right under the pale skin, like mold growing on walls, eating the wall from the inside. For months now he had tried unsuccessfully to avoid catching sight of the cursed markings. "No you're not." All of his delusions collapsed all around him and Harry was left feeling empty, void of all feeling.

"I think it's worse if I don't help you to see."

"I think that you should leave me alone, that's what I think," Harry blustered, scooting away from the other boy.

"I-…don't you dare abandon me now," the trembling child cried, face drawn as he pushed past the older boy.

"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT'S SICK!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs, getting up, feeling a ball go up his throat at his friend's stricken expression.

This fueled Harry even more. He wanted to hurt him, to cause Ervy pain. "Let's quit this now. The only reason you're here is because I just happened to be the only other student in your schooling."

Without so much as a warning, Ervy marched over and shoved at him. "You daft idiot, bastard! Just classmates, are we!?" the younger boy shouted.

Dumbstruck, Harry watched as his friend gathered a box and a tiny velvet bag from his rucksack, sticking the items in his back pocket as he drew close to the fireplace. He no longer looked hurt; his eyes were slits of anger, his neck baring red blotches. "What?" he shouted when he caught sight of Harry's helpless watching. "The daft idiot has something to say, does he?"

"It just came out," Harry apologized, feeling panicked.

"That's...it's not nearly close to good enough for what you've just taken from me, Harry. If you meant what you'd said that day you would know that brothers don't quit on each other. Not ever." Grey eyes were fierce, waiting for Harry to challenge this truth.

Harry couldn't bear to look up at the other boy. "I'm sorry. Please, just stay." Harry motioned towards Ervy's hand, which was wrapped around the battered tin containing Floo powder.

The anger was slowly leaving Ervy's face, softening at the edges. "I need to visit somewhere today," he informed Harry.

"You'll let me come?" Harry asked, not wanting to separate while things had not yet completely stabilized between them. He was scared to death that the other boy would decide never to see him ever again.

Handing him a piece of parchment and quill from the top of the mantle, Ervy instructed, "Write Mr. Lupin a note."

**_A note?! There hadn--OUCH! Being flung away with harrowing pressure._**

* * *

The first thing he saw was a brazen group of Death Eaters surrounding a group of children.

Bruce's son, Eamon, barely twelve, cleared his throat, petting his sister's hair with bound hands. "Dria, sit down right at me feet, close yer eyes, and plug yer ears. Hum the song mamma sings for ya and don't ya dare open them. If ye don't do as I say….I-I'll think ye don't love me." Silent tears fell from the blindfold.

**_Pure hopelessness. Nothing but black. An indescript howl. _**

* * *

"Harry, you wait in here." Both boys were in a dilapidated shack. Through the window Harry could see bent fir trees, like the ones outside of Ron's house.

"Don't be stupid, I want to come with you," Harry insisted, sneezing when he bumped into an old pile of newspapers. "Where are we?" he asked, examining a yellowed moving photograph of a burning house with a strange snake-shaped mark over it.

"Just past the town of Ottery St. Catchpole. Mother and father lived here before the business kicked off," said the younger boy while planting his feet in order to pull the door open with the force necessary to circumvent it's deterioration with disuse. It heaved open with a rusty screech, and the cool night air swirled into the room, disturbing the layer of dust over everything.

"I'll come with you wherever you go," Harry said steadily, exiting the shack and following his friend down a barely discernible path.

**_Ottery St. Catchpole! Want out…must continue, smell of earth and blood. Not a self._**

* * *

"Admit your Da abandoned you. If he hadn't been celebrating his raid, he might have showed his mug in time, isn't that right?" the angry Death Eater chortled. "Tell the truth, little lass, or we'll see if the chit is more fun. Don't ya want the pain to go away, Eamon?" he said in a twisted parody of concern.

**"I HATE HIM!" **Eamon bellowed desperately, going lax.

Another Death Eater approached; receiving nods from the others, he slashed his wand through the air.

**_Bruce forcefully tugged the spectator from memory before the first drop touched the tiny, quivering girl…Oh, gods…_**

* * *

Harry stood before a grave marker as Ervy piled a gleaming black stone on a heap of multi-colored rocks in front of it. "Before I was born," he began quietly, "my mother and father had another son. He was playing not far from here, collecting some blood ore, when a fight broke out between some wizards from the ministry and this criminal. One of the spells hit him…they panicked when it happened, paid my parents off so they wouldn't press charges. Father and mother left everything here, built this for him, and tried not to look back." Fondling a rock Harry could recall was yellow fluorite, Ervy's face seemed even more distressed as his eyes traced the complex formation of cubes and their seemingly unbreakable bonds to each other. "Just like that," he said with force.

"Why do you come here if you never knew him?" Harry asked, feeling an irrational sort of jealousy for the boy buried here as his friend carefully set the stone back down in its place.

Stepping back, the child observed the arrangements of stone, his gaze seeming further off. "The only time I can remember my mother not being so cold was when she'd speak about him, and that was the only time father wouldn't be around. They'd get into bad rows until eventually they stopped mentioning my brother all together–he disappeared completely." The moonlight illuminated his face as he bowed it. "As did my mother," he whispered, his eyes glazed. "When I made father drive me here, I dumped my rock collection, the one I finished for my brother, and sat here and listened for the engine, wishing he'd leave me here and spare me from watching him fall apart, from her fake show of caring." His distress flowed through Harry as their gazes met, "I wondered how much my memory would be worth, Harry."

Upset by how Ervy's words conflicted with his ideal image of family, and feeling increasingly unhinged when Ervy continued to carefully rearrange some onyx, Harry blurted out, "But that's not fair! The least he can do is to pretend for your sake, to make it all seem okay." Ervy grabbed at him but he wasn't strong enough to stop the older boy as he angrily kicked the tower of stones.

"You ruined it!" the small boy yelled as he fell to his knees, quickly gathering them together again, holding them near. "Nothing is fair, Harry! I didn't ask for this illness, I didn't ask to never have any friends, or to have to convince myself that my father loving me would ever be enough to make it all seem okay. And I hate that I have to suffer while I try to convince myself that it's wrong of me to wish I won't wake up ever again, when that guilt is the only thing driving me!" His face was red with anger, his chest rapidly falling and rising, eyes filled with some dreadful mix of things Harry couldn't entirely identify with.

A tossed rock had impacted Harry's leg during Ervy's confessions and he bent over to retrieve it, staring at it with a forlorn expression as the dirt fell through his fingers. Gods, he was so sorry for damaging it now. But the rock structure had seemed for one unbearable second like a beautiful thing Harry was obligated to destroy. Because the world was meant to be ugly, unjust, and making it anything else only brought disappointment and hurt.

But, consequentially, he knew he was wrong because boys their age weren't supposed to be disillusioned from the idea of unconditional love and unquestionable trust, in hope. It wasn't normal to pray to die, to beg for mercy, to believe that you were not entitled to a single morsel of food without labor or humiliation. Only Harry didn't know how to deserve anything else, and to be expected to restrain himself from the means of survival he had used his entire life was unthinkable. He'd be exposed, completely at the mercy of others, and the destruction they could cause him... It was agonizing to even think about.

**_Oh, Harry–an arduous lurch in his temples reminded him of the true self, the one feeling. Senses…so real… are real. _**

"Do you honestly think that forgetting everything will make it easier on you, Harry?" Ervy asked him heatedly, swiping away at the tears glistening on his cheeks. "As much as you hate those scars, as much as I hate this illness, it's a part of me. And if someone can accept it, then I should care enough to bear their reaction, to trust in them. Isn't that true? Isn't it?" The tower crumbled as Ervy made a second attempt to reassemble it back together. His searching hands stilled, his shoulders in a solid arch, exposing the faded name of his deceased brother. "It has to be…"

After a couple of steps, Harry took the stone in his hand and started a whole new row next to the one his friend was building. "I don't know. I don't even know who I am for Merlin's sake! Since a year ago, I half expected to screw up, and every time I gained something else it became another threat, something else I was going to lose. A part of me won't ever be free from that, I think," Harry admitted, resolutely keeping his gaze down. "And I'm so afraid of facing that, of admitting it to myself." He distracted his fingers by scraping some dirt off his nails, watching as the other boy seemed to grow smaller at his admission. "I hate that so much. I hate not being able to say that its true…just like that."

The little boy shivered. There was a trembling sort of expression on his face. "I was going to leave today, when you were gone, and I wasn't going to come back." He let out a mock laugh, shutting his gray eyes when he was unable to quell his true grief. "But then you came down so upset, and I remembered what you said about us being brothers, and I had it in my head that if I could help that it'd make me feel like I've done something more useful than wasting away." The claw of his small hand dug in the ground, his mouth grinding before he tensed and took a deep breath. His voice was so normal when he spoke again, "Forget it." His shadowed face twisted into a smile.

Oh, gods…Harry wanted so badly to resent the little boy for offering him such cruelty with friendship...he wanted to pretend nothing was wrong and make him stay away just as badly as he wanted to promise him that he would be there for him like no one ever had–to show him that he was worth the pain he was sure to cause. Merlin, how could he live with himself either way? " I won't let you, "he said softly, his voice cracking, before speaking with more force," I can't let you just erase all this. Because we did that potion together…even though I still don't have a single clue as to what it does." Harry tried to strain a smile but his throat was shut so tightly he could barely breathe. "We were like them, you and I, like my dad and his friend when they did that treasure hunt, and I don't want to imagine that was fake." For the first time he fully met Ervy's misty eyes. "Maybe I wanted someone to be able to understand what it's like to make yourself feel nothing at all when it's all so much…because if they did I wouldn't be abnormal, I wouldn't be alone."

"I know, Harry," Ervy responded quietly.

"Good." Harry's body was unable to convey the horribly crushing weight of impending upheaval. "Till the end, Ervy. I promise," he added, swallowing the mass wedged in his throat.

"I'm so sorry," the other boy said, though his eyes belied the regretful apology with intense gratitude.

* * *

A searing heat claim skin like hot irons, lungs unable to procure air, life–there is far too much poison in the fumes of a dying family home. Smoke clears at the door, James Potter, straining hands at sides, clears a path through the aching fire.

Scrambling to reach the hidden infant, loose boards are wrenched open to find a lifeless bundle in the crevice. Desperate footfalls make it past crumbling walls.

**_James there. He's dead. Head explodes in agony, skin burns. Too much…all hurts._**

* * *

"Let them go," Mr. Kippling threatened.

**_Wait! Can't hold on. _**

* * *

"Dada needs you to breathe, Ariel…please." The tiny violet orbs wouldn't move.

"Liam!" James Potter yelled shakily as the Auror clawed at the ground and started to convulse violently, a pulsing light enveloping him.

**_Being torn from memory, such force, such excruciating agony. Me loves. Not mine, foreign. Wrong self. Burning hate. Self-detest. _**

* * *

A strong hand squeezed Harry's shoulder harshly. "You will be joining us."

From the angle, Harry could see Ervy let a piece of candy drop into the dirt below.

**_Let go! Can't see! Not the self. Up! Wake up! Remus. Remus, wake up."_**

* * *

"Remus, wake up," Dumbledore called over him.

Gasping, Remus struggled out of his chair, unhindered when wizened hands continued to hold him down. Someone was screaming, sobbing intermingling within the wretched cacophony. A nightmare, it sounded so dreadful that Remus felt wet, undignified tears water in his eyes, just before a pulsing rage swept through him so violently that he wanted to hurl. The crippling extremes were quickly replaced by a horrible mass of confusion. Nothing, he couldn't make a single graspable connection to anything, as if flashes of a dream were whizzing by so quickly that he could only see light.

Vaguely, he could hear someone speak through the chaos, "You will be fine in a few moments, Remus, just allow yourself to adjust. You will find that, much like a dream, the details will begin to fade."

Closing his eyes, Remus steadied his breathing, thinking of the little boy with emerald eyes as he'd run down the stairs, sought reassurance, was stolen away. Sure enough, the emotions, the intimate ones that had him feeling like a cast away orphan, began to vanish. It was harder yet to make himself venture in the parts that had been closely guarded, where smells of earth had been followed closely by pulling grievances. In moving shapes void of color, he could picture an unmoving family laying on the singed grass, a man weeping before them. With sudden clarity, Remus launched himself out of the chair, pressing down his arms for the sensation of touch. With immense relief, he came upon the realization that he could understand he was as he existed. "I am Remus John Lupin."

"Good on you, Moony," Sirius quipped, and a touch at his shoulder startled Remus enough to breathe again.

"Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you," Sirius said with forced cheer, freshly brewed Earl Grey slopping against a delicate floral pattern saucer as he handed a cup to Remus. His best friend was shaking just as much as he was.

"It feels like I've missed something, only I don't know what it is."

"Yeah, we all got that," the Animagus informed him as he sipped from his saucer, where the contents of the cup had spilled.

The seeping cup was tottering precariously where it rested; Remus observed the stark contrast of the white froth against the wicker brown, adjusting his hands so that the warmth of the beverage could no longer touch his flesh. The hand on the old Muggle clock moved languidly over the mantel, stealing minutes with a helpless tugging motion, its reverberating tick intermingling within the muffled screams resonating from upstairs.

They'd been under for four hours he thought fleetingly, stilling the nervous jiggle of his leg with the palm of his hand before casting a levitation charm over the pile of papers he had retrieved earlier, not watching as they flew like an oblong impostor of a quaffle in his direction. The weight of the manila file settled disproportionately over his legs; he found it increasingly difficult to remember his body required oxygen on a regular basis. Highly annoyed, he shifted once more in his chair and found himself settling into the same exact location. "Take it," he told Sirius, who watched as he drew his torso as far as possible from the file. "Please," he added, like the bloody coward he was, when the sensation to lock it away from anyone who might ever see it grew to be nearly unbearable.

"This is…?" Sirius said, turning the folder in his hands. An audible catch in the Animagus' breath alerted him that he now knew it was Harry's case file.

Remus fled without a single word.

Without preamble, he watched in a detached manner as his scuffed shoes made their way to the study, the steps of the staircase seemingly protruding further out than usual, the railing too far to offer its looping iron support, and the once brilliant light fixtures not nearly as bright as they were meant to be, their dim, hounding glow growing more faint as he moved within proximity.

* * *

Harry began to hyperventilate as his captor brought the basin closer. "No," he cried.

Ervy was sobbing next to him, the weeping morphing into a gut wrenching scream when he was grabbed by the hair on his scalp, his neck bared to reveal a network of purple and blue bruises intermingling within the black veins.

"Do it again."

"Don't Harry!" Ervy begged, his bony torso collapsing to the floor.

Ignoring his friend's pleading, Harry shut his eyes as he lit the torches on the wall, willing to do anything to escape seeing the face of their captor. The glaring heat illuminating the swirling silver mass spun more violently, forming nondescript shapes of small children, of howling visages bubbling to the surface.

"Stop! Harry!" Ervy yelled once more before being backhanded against the mouth.

"You said you wouldn't hurt him!" Harry shouted, sealing his lips shut when Ervy was hit again for his gall.

"The boy will live," the voice responded tonelessly, a smirk spreading across the mouth. "How does it feel to take another life, Harry Potter?" his captor chortled with crazed malice.

"I didn't…I didn't do it." Harry shook his head violently, unmindful of just how much the motion was breaking open the sensitive wounds strewn about his body.

"No? The blood came from you, you chanted the spell for the base of the potion, and now you continue to fuel it. That makes you responsible," the voice prattled on in a sing song voice that made Harry sick to his stomach.

Having heard quite enough, Harry clasped his hands over his ears until he could hear the cellar door close, when he would no longer be faced with the lie of that face.

"Are you okay?" Harry whispered, relieved to see his captor had left them provisions of corn meal and stale bread. They used their fingers to feast on the cold meal, sucking on them until they could taste the dirt coating over their nails.

"I want you to break that promise." Ervy finally told him in a mannered voice after they had finished, turning away from him, as far as his manacles would allow.

"I don't want to hear it," Harry said in a hard voice, feeling an inkling of betrayal that Ervy was selfish enough to say such a thing after all he had done to keep him alive.

"I hate you sometimes," Ervy whispered, his voice choked back by tears.

"I can live with that," Harry responded, shielding his face within the gap between his knees. "Just as long as you don't give up," Harry said softly, and then only because he didn't know how right or wrong he was for asking Ervy to endure so much more pain on his behalf, he added, "I'm sorry."

"Idiot," Ervy said in his usual nonchalant way, clasping his hand within Harry's after wiping away the tears on his cheeks, "don't you know you're supposed to be stubborn enough to ignore everything I say after one of your stupidly contagious fits of chivalry."

The silence hung over them after the statement, Harry giggled first, marveling at his friend's ability to brighten his mood even amidst such a terrible situation, before they both erupted in peals of laughter.

Resting his head against the cold stone of the wall after their shared mirth had subsided, it suddenly occurred to him that he was still wearing Bruce's Christmas present and had neglected to even so much as recall the fact since the cloaked figure had tried to take it a few days ago and failed. For some reason, it seemed to slowly make any pain ebb away so that it wasn't endless. His sore left shoulder, Harry knew, could be hurting a lot more than it was now. Even so, he knew he had to take care of it; he'd be damned if he was going to lose his arm because of some insignificant knife wound.

Shuddering as he carefully separated his shirt sleeve from his infected cut, he took the spoon he had spent the better part of yesterday sharpening against the floor and mentally prepared himself for the pain of its penetration. His nostrils flared as he pressed the tip of the spoon on the puffed edged of the old wound, jabbing it in further as foul-smelling puss rolled down his arm. He'd bitten down so hard on his lip that he could taste blood in his mouth, yet oddly enough, the pain was still above bearable.

The theory behind the pendant was correct.

"Harry?" Ervy called, worried.

"I'm fine," he assured the younger boy while ripping apart the rest of his sleeve in order to bandage his arm. It occurred to him, Bruce's words, _'This has runes and protection on it that will protect ya if ya let them. Never take this off, alright?' _Eagerness swept through him. He didn't even know how the pendant worked or the entirety of what it was doing for him, but with one look at Ervy, he knew that he'd break his promise to his tutor if it meant saving his friend, keeping that promise he'd made to him. He would just have to hope that the repercussions wouldn't be more than he was willing to pay.

* * *

_One Month Later…_

Remus brought up his wand once more, letting it drop back to his side with a sigh when he realized how skewed his tired vision was. "Are you okay?" he asked the rogue, who was gripping his shoulder for the fifth time in under an hour, and received a glare in return.

Right. The question was quite daft given the circumstances. They had spent the better part of a week in the slums of Knockturn Alley; and currently they were in an area named Twisted Bend, where the criminals and castaways tended to haunt, lying low in broken-down flats where the Ministry pretended they didn't exist and nobody dared to ask questions. At any rate, any of the bastards would backstab another for a rusty sickle.

Sirius made an abrupt turn, going ahead of them and ambling towards the blanketed darkness, as the vague light of the moon seemed reluctant to illuminate the littered street. The Animagus' sudden wish to separate himself from his companions wouldn't have been significant if it hadn't been for the brief stagger in Bruce's step that Remus had also caught. Sirius could no longer bear to lay eyes on the rogue these days–every flinch of pain was potentially something his godson was enduring all on his own. The man was, after all, still using his ability to channel it towards the only thing they had to make sure that Harry was still alive. While the emotional connection was being blocked, the rogue had managed to retain a one way channel for Harry's pain, as well as a partial shield on the child's mind. Some days Remus could hardly stand it all himself; yet ignoring the plight of suffering Bruce had taken upon himself wasn't something he could ever bring his heavy conscience to do.

"In here," said Sirius, preoccupied with throwing the cloak over his face and not pausing to see if they were following him into the pub.

Bruce automatically leaned against the wall next to the mistreated door. It surprised the werewolf when Bruce caught his arm as he went to tug open the door. The rogue seemed to have been acting out of impulse for there was a strange sort of desperation present upon his face, as if he was trying to communicate without actual speech. "Don't follow a bloke stickin' knives in his own reflection, yeah?" Bruce told him.

Remus could recognize the man's message as the warning that it was: 'Stay away from me for your own bloody good'. The utter helplessness he felt at the moment angered the werewolf the most, more than it irked him endlessly that the chipper rogue he had met in Ireland must have been aware of the serrated edges of his memories every time he had forced a smile, shared a joke, or looked upon Harry only to see his own son begging for death. How cruel was it to expect that man now, after all he knew?

Bruce had always been the same: irrational, brash, protective, explosive...he did all in the extreme. Yet, even back in the days, Remus would catch a single moment of vulnerable lucidity in his gaze, when Remus could finally understand what James had once said about his fellow Auror. Liam Lorcan was truly dead, and in only the cruelest of ways. Everything else that he was enduring since that day he had buried his whole world was a farce in the name of some self-righteous obligation to a mysterious order of wizards, and the constant pain he withstood was to him like reparation for failing to die trying to save them that day. Not looking back, Remus passed under the threshold of the low door and let it crash behind him.

The pub the Animagus had just led them to, Strang Den, was a complete squalor with furniture most likely from the worst hovel of the Middle Ages (some of which were covered with far more questionable waste than a public loo), and an even dingier clientele. Roughly, Remus moved two stools out with his wand, glaring at the young bat-eyed bartender, knowing full well that even his expression was as jarring as its purpose.

Sirius mastered his role as the mysterious persona, his taller stature and superior stance completing the image. It killed them to do this, but if they could learn even a single thing about the current going ons of the forbidden rings of wizarding society, than there was still the possibility that they would eventually stumble upon Harry's whereabouts.

The bartender placed filthy mugs of mead before them, keeping his gaze down as Remus penetrated his skull with his stare, flinching when the werewolf tossed the knuts at him in a brusque manner, more for the benefit of those watching him.

"Tell me," Sirius addressed the man, "it has been a while since I've integrated myself with the rest of the mongrels, but what's the world been up to?"

When this garnered no answer from the man, Remus tried a different tactic. "Have you seen a swindler by the name of Mundungus Fletcher about these parts?" He looked back at Sirius, who shrugged, before looking down at the hunched form of the bartender.

"For Merlin's sake, wolf. The bloke is a mute," Bruce growled from behind him, tossing back the mug of mead which had initially belonged to Sirius. "Show him, Ham," Bruce addressed the bartender gruffly.

Behind two rows of rotting teeth inside the man's exposed mouth, they could see that his tongue had curled back, made charcoal by a dark curse.

"You two know each other?" Sirius inquired, looking between them, and straying longer on Bruce, apparently uneasy by the sudden change in the man.

"Never met him before in me life," Bruce answered lightly, swaying only slightly as he turned in some grand gesture to address the rest of the patrons, "Have any of ye tyrants seen Dung?"

"Never heard of him," a bearded, one-eyed, fellow said near the back.

A hag hunched over near the window spoke up, "We don't like outsiders poking they noses in, if ya ain't be knowin' it, ya ain't got a right to be here," she sneered, turning a disdainful eye their way over her hook-like nose.

"They've got gold," Bruce called cheerfully, threading an arm over each of their shoulders.

"He's cowering behind that there door," the hag answered instantly, extending her wrinkled hand for her gold galleon with a horrific grin.

Mundungus Fletcher froze, took one look at the odd ensemble of his pursuers, and made to run. The werewolf had the man by his throat in a painful lock before he could even turn around fully. The palpable liquor stench clinging to the man's tattered clothing was the first thing to assault his senses.

"I don't know nothin'," Mundungus said, his bloodshot eyes widened in fear. The inner city lilt to his voice was rough and scratched from years of pipe smoking.

"The Old Man has inconveniently been unable to reach you, Dung. We thought you might be needing assistance, considering it's such an important matter," Sirius said coolly.

"Who are you?" Mundungus yelped when he caught a glimpse of Sirius from his vantage position below, his height being much less than the other man's. "You're--"

"Finish the sentence and we will all have more problems than we can afford, considering this is the type of establishment that you tend to frequent," Sirius said quietly.

"B-b-but, Lupin…you're not with em, are ya? You're the good, k-k-kind sort, eh?"

"Your fickle allegiance will not be tolerated," Remus said bitingly, far more harshly than he had intended. Upon hearing his captive emit choking sounds, he doubled his efforts to keep his grip loose upon the man's neck. He had never been a violent man, but at the moment he was hard pressed not to squeeze every piece of information from the elusive man before him.

"I wasn't running away; I move around is all," the thief insisted.

"You waved farewell in Diagon Alley before Apparating just two weeks ago," Sirius shot back with glaring annoyance.

"He caught that did he?" Mundungus winced. "I'd been sure he was further away."

Once they were outside, Remus shoved him into the alley, reclining against a neighboring skip as he got a hold of himself, concentrating on decreasing the amount of aggression he felt to just below murderous.

"You pansies got gold for me?" Mundungus hollered over to them, lighting his pipe, apparently under the delusion that their little display inside had been for show.

"I'll show you gold, you thieving son of a--" Sirius growled before Remus grabbed his arm to calm him.

Bruce stepped forward, his eyes becoming an uncanny shade. "I'm sorry," he whispered under his breath as Mundungus tensed, "but we've no time." The bloodshot eyes of the thief were focused on Bruce's iron expression, fully glazed, and a cloud of ghastly green smoke fell from the man's lips. The sight sent a collective shiver through them. Dung seemed impossibly still, entranced within the violet gaze, and Bruce seemed to be struggling for focus, his jaw grinding. With a grunt of effort, Bruce tore his gaze away and fell to the ground, muffling screams behind his compressed mouth.

They knew not to touch him and kept their distance as they watched Mundungus crumble into a useless heap.

"Focus on me, Dung," Sirius called to the man, guiding him down on the ground so that he avoided the rubbish strewn about them.

Remus watched as he picked up the thief's smoking pipe off the floor and placed it back into the man's grubby palm. The disoriented criminal began to struggle against them and they had a few close calls when he almost thrashed into a collection of broken Firewhiskey bottles. His frazzled sounds of pain or confusion tangled with Bruce's efforts to collect himself before he stilled and finally seemed to realize where he was. Those eyes, which Remus had only seen filled with greed, lack of sympathy, and fear, welled up in tears.

Bruce struggled to his feet and made his way toward them, careful not to touch any of them or look them square in the face. "Lucius has just purchased an entire wing of St. Mungo's," he said. "Sources say that he's been holding a bloke there who he's been using 'illegal' substances to coax out information, for the purpose of getting ta the source of the recent calamities…"

"Abeforth promised me a hefty sum for that, ye know," Mundungus spoke. "I thought if I held back, he'd pay me more. But that lad, the one I felt just now, this can help him, yeah?" The man shuddered, shakily lighting his pipe again.

"It can," Bruce responded stiffly.

Sirius eyes swiveled to meet Remus'; the werewolf looked away first. Was Harry's situation so dire that it could convince a heartless lowlife like Mundungus to consider helping them?

"I ain't want to know how you done that, so I'll be taking all you there, show where it is…just don't tell nobody old Dung's gone soft, ye hear?"

"Ya got me word," the rogue promised.

Mundungus shook Bruce's hand, whose stiff limbs barely contained their agony at the contact, and retreated to the end of the skip as he mopped at his bloodshot eyes with a filthy sleeve.

At arrival in the main lobby of St. Mungo's, a cursory glance of the hospital revealed more than just mere chaos. It was a pandemic, with a bustling crowd of reporters searching for any headliners. Padfoot was at his heels, secured by a collar. The Glamour over his eyes not only evoked sympathy upon the people they encountered, but it was easier to ask questions without suspicion due to the pity caused by his apparent disability. The Animagus growled, snapping at Mundungus' heels as he eyed a pouch of galleons leaning out from a reporter's pocket, who was preoccupied with asking the same question over and over again: "Are the deaths a result of a new strain of dragon pox?"

Mundungus grumbled unpleasantly as they passed the man, entering the lift. They encountered no obstacles getting up to the wing of the hospital reserved for Malfoy, yet they kept alert. As soon as the staff would notice him, they would unanimously conclude that a man with his eyes cursed into oblivion would have no ulterior motives for venturing through St. Mungo's, which was absurd since just two days ago another child had been brought in having pushed his mother off of the tenth story of their flat before following her. They had been pronounced dead yesterday, as the _Daily Prophet_ had announced, adding to the stream of violent deaths plaguing the wizarding world as of late.

The Ministry was near shambles as a result of their lack of action or answers. Weeks before, Arthur Weasley had been suspended along with a heavy handful of low profile ministry personnel on bogus charges of hindering an official investigation with false reports. They were most obviously being used as scapegoats. Chaos, however, continued to reign, heedless to the Wizengamot's desperate attempts to restore order.

The public was not responding well to the curfews and restriction, nor did they appreciate their continued insistence that Sirius Black was somehow behind it all. In fact, the ministry had been forced to order the Dementors back to Azkaban as soon as the illustrious _Quibbler _began to garner support on their theory that the Dementors were conspiring against the wizarding world by eliminating any future contenders to the leadership role of the magical population. And while they'd felt insane for entertaining the idea, Sirius and he had actually spent three sleepless nights thinking on that possibility. Things just continued to grow progressively worse no matter what they discovered.

"Stop, all of ye," Bruce addressed them, coming around them from where he had been following from behind.

Distracted by his thoughts, Remus hadn't realized that they had been seconds away from setting off the layer of wards before them.

"What?" Mundungus protested, "It's through there, I ain't pulling nothin'." The wizard could obviously not detect the wards, which explained a lot about his chosen profession, since a truly competent wizard would have felt the protections like a wall of bricks, as obvious as they were. Fortunately, they no longer required the thief's assistance.

When Dung had literally skipped off without a protest, his pockets weighed down by a ridiculous handful of the rogue's galleons, Bruce pulled out his wand and dismantled the wards wordlessly. As soon as he was done he excused himself to the nearest loo, where they could hear wrenching from the other side, and glass potion vials were heard rolling across the floor. Remus was in the process of ignoring another one of Padfoot's impatient whines when it got caught mid-way to being released, and both of them turned around, suddenly feeling an uneasy chill go up their spines.

There it was again, a distinct scent that was nudging at his subconscious with its familiarity. Padfoot moved forward, his speed accelerating as they drew closer, pulling against his leash before he managed to rip it out of Remus' grip. Both of them were sprinting as they neared the door, past moaning portraits and down a long corridor, Remus doing so out of the sense of urgency Sirius' blind determination was invoking within him.

"Let's just think before we leap, shall we?" Remus said soundly, catching his breath along with the bear-sized canine when they came to a stop outside of a parted door.

Padfoot released a displeased growl but sat down, perking his ears.

"You can wake up now, Ginny," Ronald Weasley was whispering to his sister, whose severely bruised and bandaged hands were the only thing poking out from under the covers.

Oh, no…something had happened to the Weasleys. Before the werewolf could stop him, Sirius, no doubt recalling that the Weasleys had been an integral part of Harry's recovery, bounded inside, wagging his tail.

"Mr. Weasley, do not be alarmed," Remus said soothingly, following Sirius inside, and suitably impressed when the young boy's first instinct was to put his body before his sister's bed.

"That's a grim!" the boy protested. "Blimey! What happened to your eyes, sir?" Great, the child looked even more put off by his appearance than he was about the rather large beast sniffing at his legs.

"Mr. Lupin?" Remus heard a muffled squeak from under the pile of blankets. The boy, upon his sister's outburst, finally realized who he was.

"Where's Harry?" the child hollered. The werewolf caught the worry behind his disrespect.

Slightly disconcerted by the accusation, Remus bought himself some time by dispelling the Glamour over his eyes.

"Mr. Lupin, is Harry okay?" Ginny Weasley asked softly. "They said things in the paper--"

"Both of you, you must tell me where your parents are," he said, trying not to stare at the youngest Weasley's exposed face without wincing in sympathy. The poor girl was covered in cuts and bruises, her left eye completely shut swollen.

"Mum had to speak to the healer, Dad had to go into hiding, and Aunt Muriel ran down to the lounge cause she heard they were serving kidney pie, even when she was supposed to watch us," he finished, before managing another, " Now, where's Harry?!"

Remus sighed and focused on Padfoot, who had not abandoned his search for the illusive scent and was sniffing a stack of neatly piled hospital gowns. "And what, may I ask, happened to you, Miss Weasley?"

"She doesn't know, and it's our turn for questions!" Ronald interrupted, though it hadn't looked as if the battered little girl had been keen on answering such questions if the sudden green tint to her skin was indication of any sort.

"She must have some idea…" he prodded once more, unheeded by the child's growing scowl. The child was protective of his family, he could give him that.

"It was sleepwalking; she got a broom in the middle of the night and fell from the sky when she realized she couldn't fly it." The boy met his gaze, causing Remus to realize just how much the boy had grown during Harry's estrangement from them.

"Is that right?" he asked the female redhead, who promptly shook her head very quickly.

There was more to the situation, Remus knew, but he was not going to pry any further. He prepared himself to admit to the children that for once the _Daily Prophet_ had published the truth about Harry's kidnapping, not certain if he was prepared to utter the actual words, when he watched in horror as Sirius transformed back into his human self, a look of detestation framing his features. His hands contained a struggling rat, its squeals filling the room, and the werewolf's veins completely flooded with venom. The bastard was three times the size of a normal rat, having enjoyed the presence of six children that had been more than pleased to dote on their pet, and its third claw was missing just where Sirius had told him it would be.

He was disgusted that it had been staring him in the face all along; the filthy traitor had been basking in his good fortune while Remus had racked his brains for any possible way to get his innocent friend out of prison. Never before had he ruthlessly contemplated casting any combination of the Unforgivables without a single hindering thought.

"Peter, why don't you join us?" Sirius called, with his expression as crazed as his voice. The old anger was boiling back to the surface and the young Weasley children had noticed, the oldest climbing on to the bed before his sister as if getting his feet off the ground would protect him from danger.

What're you doing to Scabbers?" the boy had the gall to say, though he tensed when both men looked up at him.

Using the distraction to his advantage, the rat in question bit Sirius hard enough to draw blood and managed to get free, his little paws scuttling towards the door. _"Deanimo!"_ Sirius shouted instantly, watching with satisfaction as a blue-white light enveloped the shrieking creature.

"Welcome back, dearest Peter…oh, how we missed you," Remus said with surprising calm, gripping his wand so hard that he was sure he'd have the wood's simple design bruised into his skin for hours.

The excuse for a human being in front of them was not the small scurrying boy that had trailed after James with his pathetic hero worship. The gray pallor to his skin stood out over his mousy, balding head, his rat-like little eyes zooming across the room with nervous energy. His chipped buck teeth still upstaged his sharp nose. Even the clothing on him was too small for the added girth in his chubby limbs. Those watery eyes looked up at him, and the traitor fell to his knees. "Y-y-you don't u-u-understand…what it was like," he cried, groveling, a screeching quality to his voice grating against their ear drums.

Both children seemed frozen by fear now, the name Sirius Black hanging from their lips, clinging hands in their panic.

It has come to my attention that we have just a few pressing matters to discuss, dearest Peter," Remus told him casually.

"You have got to understand, y-y-you Remus, how uncertain it's b-b-been for me with that backstabber alive, r-r-readying for an escape!" Peter tried shrilly, wildly waving his grubby arms in the Animagus' direction.

Sirius bared his teeth viciously, as if struggling to contain all the hate and turmoil fighting for control within him. "You disgusting little leech, you handed Lily and James to the murdering creature! And once you could pin it on me, you cowered away from the rest of your Death Eaters, who were most displeased about their master' subsequent downfall on your information."

"No! Remus, he's lying, _he_ was their Secret Keeper! H-he's a Black; he befriended James just to hand them over!" Peter was hysterical now.

"HOW DARE YOU UTTER HIS NAME!" Sirius roared, face livid. "Did you truly believe that you could sell them to Voldemort, to spy on the order for an entire year, without suffering the consequences one day?!" the Animagus questioned him in acerbic tones. His sturdy aspen wand was leveled at Peter's heart, a fact that hadn't escaped the rat's notice, for he squirmed pathetically under it.

"Please–have mercy, the Dark Lord, y-y-you got to understand--"

With malicious rebuttal, Sirius cut in, "I understand that I made the biggest mistake of my life, picking an insignificant little grub like you, convincing Lily and James to use you instead, and that right now I am going to be one step closer at making it right."

"Remus?!" the rat shrieked at him.

"The only reason, old friend," he said unkindly, "that you are not yet dead is due to the fact that I refuse to murder you in front of these children."

The stocky man flinched back and then muttered 'the children' under his breath before lurching toward the foot of the bed, "Little ones, you won't let them do that, will you? I was never anything but a good rat…a very nice pet."

Both looked properly horrified that their dear Scabbers had been a grown, not to mention a man long believed dead, all along.

Remus and Sirius shared a glance before hauling Peter back by his arms, pushing him towards the doorway.

"Children, I want you to bar the door once we leave. Do not forget to place a towel under the crack. I can trust you to accomplish this simple task?" he asked them.

The boy was still in a state of mild shock, his mouth hanging loose, while the youngest nodded in a daze.

On return, he was met by a panting Peter that had knelt in the dimly-lit hallway, trying to grab Sirius' robes, who took a few disgusted steps back. "I-I-I beg you," the man stammered.

Remus seized him, brandishing his wand, Peter trembling beneath him. Then he caught the seemingly senseless muttering Peter was doing, and the glimmer of an object caught his eye near the vicinity of the Animagus' trouser pocket.

Sirius saw it at once and reached for it while Peter completely laid flat against the floor and used his feet to skitter away. "Save me! You must save me!" gasped the man. But instead of looking at them, he had retrieved a silver circle mirror and was shouting into it.

_"Accio mirror,_" Remus called, he himself perturbed by the instant fury that flooded Sirius face.

_"Everbero!_" Sirius cursed the prone man, whose head shot back, his entire body skidding across the tile, as the red imprint of large hand began to form on his cheek. "YOU STOLE JAMES' MIRROR?!" Sirius shook with pure hatred. "After he was dead, lying there, you dared enter that house and steal his mirror!!!!"

The stocky man seemed frozen by terror now, backing away as a steady flow of blood drizzled unto his shoulder from his ear. In two large strides, the werewolf had made it to Peter's side and thrust his wand under the flabby neck, very calmly asking him, "Who is in possession of the other?"

Just before Peter was forcefully persuaded to answer, a sudden gasp to his left became diversion enough for Peter to charge upwards and scratch at his face like some desperate animal at the verge of being consumed.

Sirius shot a blasting curse at the rat as he fought to get his wand free, the spell shooting the other man twenty feet through the air before he smashed into the hard floor with a muted thud. Remus cast a binding spell and missed, Sirius right at his side as they both strode forward with purpose, intent on taking the traitor's life once in for all. They were forced to stop when they came upon the struggle.

Peter had collided with a child and had secured the boy within the crook of his elbow as he held a hawthorn wand to the strikingly bright blond head.

"Let me go, you dirty lunatic! Do you know who I am?" the child shouted, his clear gray gaze ablaze with offense. "Return my wand at once!"

They could tell that Peter had not, in fact, noticed by his expression of nervous panic upon taking in the aristocratic replica of none other than Lucius Malfoy. While the boy was certainly just a child, it was easy to tell that he had long achieved the haughty countenance that purebloods tended to master rather early.

Peter glanced back, as did they, knowing that if his only heir had fallen upon them, then it wasn't much of a stretch to expect a rather displeased Death Eater, ready to kill in his defense, at any given moment.

Relieved that the child had not yet seen them, he and Sirius nodded at each other, and in a rapid succession of events: Sirius transformed and leaped through the air, Remus grabbed the boy, and Peter turned back into a squealing rat to avoid Padfoot's sharp canines from sinking into his leg.

"Run. Run as fast as you can!" he told the boy urgently, securing the child's illegal wand into his robes in order to remove the possibility of an unneeded argument. No one could argue that the Malfoys didn't encourage their child's very strong instincts of self-preservation, for the small boy didn't need to be told twice before sprinting away from them.

Padfoot let out a frustrated growl that the child of Malfoy had made himself a nuisance, muffled, because secured in his jaws was a squirming rat.

"That's going to leave behind a foul taste, Sirius," Remus remarked dryly, raising his wand.

Once they had found an abandoned room and bound the rat in ropes to the mattress, they finally removed the gag, also known as Sirius' sweaty sock, from his mouth.

"Explain, Peter, or we will make you suffer more than is deemed necessary," Remus told the trembling traitor, holding up the mirror that had once belonged to Prongs.

"I was in Hogsmeade, with that Percy boy, when I got knocked down and he didn't take notice," he huffed but then seemed to remember which company he was keeping, "when some kneazle mix nuisance chased me. I was forced to transform before it ate me. Some broad noticed, only she wasn't a witch at all. I knew it was him really, only he didn't remember anything."

"Who? Sirius pressed harshly when the other man stopped, a sickening semblance of admiration at the memory present in the glaze of his beady eyes.

"The Dark Lord, as a boy…only being made to use that mad woman. I told him so, I let him know everything." An appalling smile formed on his lips and he seemed so lost in recounting the tale that it took him a while to catch himself when he lapsed into gloating about how he had been the only one who'd known where Harry Potter was.

The only reason that neither of them had yet to torture the man for his audacity to feel pride over being an errand boy to this person running around with an amnesia-inflicted Voldemort in their heads was due the fact that their skills of Legilimency were nearly nonexistent and they had no Veritaserum in their possession.

"What did you do?" Sirius bellowed.

Gulping, Peter stared up at the wand tip pressing into his forehead, before he continued on, "He wanted me to find a way into the manor. On the day he took that child, I was made to wait just where I remembered it'd been, Potter manor, and when the wards lifted and then made to settle back down, it included me in its protections so that I could come and go as I pleased."

"You took him," Sirius snarled, casting, _"Everbero!"_ once more.

Peter laughed madly, his nose bleeding profusely after his head had come to rest back against the metal headboard, "No, I didn't. I told…about how to push him to leave on his own. And when he actually left, I took his note…followed them, told her where both of them had gone, and I took that prank we'd used in sixth year, created by you no less, Padfoot, the one where we stole Slughorn's stores of Polyjuice and incriminated Snivellus in all sorts of petty crimes. The boy's been seeing your faces every day of his capture." The rat was laughing so hard that he started hacking, his eyes leaking tears at the corners.

Both Sirius and Remus, at the revulsion they felt and the sudden raw agony ripping through them, moved in sync to cast the suffocation hex they had agreed upon, a slow and painful death proper for the one who had destroyed their lives, when the door was forcefully torn open.

"Ministry of Magic; drop you wands or we will be pressured to use lethal curses," a voice barked.

"Don't resist," Sirius spoke across to him.

Remus nodded, morbidly wondering it would be the last time he would hear Sirius speak while still in possession of his soul. A struggle, in any case, would be futile, and would only hinder their cause.

They were seized by a flurry of hands, not resisting, when loud raucous steps in the hallway interrupted them all.

"Harry Potter was just admitted, Healer Gantry, critical," one of the seasoned nurses could be heard saying as the group rushed by.

* * *

The other boy's voice was soothing in the darkness. It told him that he was not only still alive to listen, but that Ervy was still strong enough to actively recite his passion from memory. Besides, Ervy had told him all about the Polyjuice he had once read about, and it assured him that he wasn't just seeing things, that his entire world was still mercifully hanging by threads.

"…Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, hand-picked at the full moon, knotgrass, fine powdered bicorn horn, boomslang skin, shredded of course, otherwise it'll be too heavy, and--" Suddenly Ervy stopped and collapsed forward. The ever persistent cough made a triumphant return as the other boy curled back into his ball and held himself close. By the end of the attack, his breathing was nothing more but a panic-inducing stridor.

Forced to ignite the torches when the wheezes didn't stop, Harry quickly turned Ervy to face him, growing further alarmed when the action revealed that the black veins had spread to surround his friend's chin, a thick coating of blood drizzling from his lips.

Ervy's slate eyes were looking up at him, beginning to drift closed as his face grew blue from lack of oxygen.

"Hold on," Harry cried, desperately yanking the leather chord from around his neck, beyond relieved when it came clean off with just one tug. Faster, he told himself, as he clumsily hung the pendant from the small boy's neck, praying that his friend's lungs wouldn't just fail. "Please work," he mumbled, repeating the phrase over and over again, unable to tear his eyes away from Ervy's body.

The light shadow encasing the mirror across from Harry flickered very quickly, taunting him.

Growing increasingly secure in the fact that Ervy's skin was slowly regaining a bit of color, he was astounded to see that the curse that infected his friend's blood and formed black trails had begun to clear at a rapid rate, taking with it any bruises. The rune etched on the gold of the pendant began to emit a mild glow. "Ervy, you idiot," he whispered, unable to bring himself to care that a thick fog was slowly filling their dungeon, or that his scar was beginning to throb, "brothers don't quit on each other." He grinned when saw the little boy's thin chest rise and fall once again in a calm steady pattern. "Not ever," he finished reiterating from his friend's own words nearly two months ago, feeling the urge to cry and laugh all at once.

The feeling left him completely when heard a voice flare alive.

**_"Murdered so many already, what does it matter if you let him live?"_**

"No…" Harry begged, keeping his head down after detaching himself from his friend's body.

**_"Look!"_**

It was his face in the mirror, his distorted reflection.

**_You will never escape me. It is inevitable, Harry…_**

He screamed to muffle the shouts of "murderer!", trembling with terror as the reverberating echoes neared him. Sirius and Remus emerged like jigsaw shapes from the mirror, their faces full of menace. Every intrinsic detail validated that this was it, his irrefutable end. Logic seemed inconsequential when he could not prove that his eyes were deceiving him. Just before he was sure the impossible figures were going to grab him and tear him apart, his scar burst in agony. He knew for certain that his head was going to explode at any second, and he literally felt like the core of him was being pulled in a thousand directions, his magic bursting from him in dangerous waves.

Vision gone completely, Harry could only hear as the entire dungeon shook, as the walls behind him started to quiver and rumble as they began to collapse. The needle point pressures had become more like bludgeoning impacts of agony, his skin cracking as the real-life image of his guardians morphed into one of a young handsome boy, keeping his gleeful dark eyes on his as he held a white hare down and twisted its neck with blood-coated hands.

**_"Let go!"_**

"Shut up, you sick bastard!" he responded back, struggling to breath. As the young wizard wiped at his dripping eyes, his blurred vision returned just in time to see when a trail of angry fire made a direct path for the mirror, consuming it.

**_"I could kill you for that!" _**the voice screamed in fury.

Just then, he heard the cellar door open, and Harry took full advantage of the dust-filled room, ducking behind a large supporting pillar after realizing with a start that his friend had disappeared from his side. A hand clamped his mouth shut before he could cry out.

"Shhh…it's me, Harry," Ervy said softly, much to Harry's relief.

"The shadow…he's gone…that means," Harry started, worry beginning to make its way onto his face.

"That it's her," Ervy finished.

As time had gone by, their captor had begun to somehow host the boy's essence. Those were the times when their treatment had grown crueler. From watching alone they could tell a good day from a bad one by how the shadow had acted the night before, while the wizarding world had been fast asleep.

"Remember that potion we worked on together?" Ervy prompted, his small face holding a mix of fear and urgency.

Harry gave a reluctant nod, still listening for the ragged breathing of their kidnapper. The reprieve they had been allowed abandoned them as the young wizard began to feel the uncomfortable tingling in his arms. "We better hurry," Harry urged when the roof began to grumble as if under some heavy weight.

"Here, let me show you then." From his tattered pocket, the smaller boy retrieved a Quidditch glove that he had dropped upon his arrival to their prison. It had been so close the entire time, cloaked in darkness, just out of their reach.

"That's my dad's, the one we found on the treasure hunt." There was no way Harry could ever forget the smooth, worn leather with the messy initials scrawled on the straps of his father's old gloves.

"I made them in that potion for you, Harry. So you won't be in so much danger when you go out. It can make you look like anybody you touch." The old glimmer of excitement had made a reappearance in the warm grey eyes, his impish grin offering hope. "I got a plan, Harry, you just hold on." With brightened vigor, the other boy pulled on the glove, startling when the shaking of the stones increased and a blast of flames seemed to spread like wildfire all around them, as if imaginary shrubs and kindling were feeding it.

Falling into Harry, Ervy's gloved hand impacted the other boy's bare shoulder, the flesh sizzling under it. "I'm so sorry, Harry!" Ervy said immediately as the green-eyed boy instinctively pushed him away, his clammy skin vibrating with endless tremors, as he breathed in steady puffs to control whatever was trying to get a hold of his body.

From the corner of his eye, Harry witnessed as his friend squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated, impressed when his thin face widened and his facial structure seemed to pop into another face altogether. His limbs elongated in a mess of pops and cracks, of cartilage and bone rubbing against one another. The results were extraordinary; Ervin Kippling looked exactly like him, like a twin copy of Harry Potter, outfit and all. When Ervy came to, he grimaced. "The cattail root sometimes reacts badly to the combination of runespoor eggs and dragon's blood when they first come in contact with organic flesh. It gets very hot, for that first time," he said apologetically.

"Don't worry about it. The burn made it easier to concentrate," Harry admitted truthfully, feeling ill at the concept. Upon closer inspection, he knew the throbbing burn was likely to scar, and he felt a sense of foreboding when he realized the burn was in the exact imprint of his friend's small hand.

"Ervin!" someone, a deep male voice, called through the thick debris filling the air.

"That's my father," Ervy whispered, eyes widened.

They shared a moment of confusion as they contemplated whether it was wise to trust that this was in fact Mr. Kippling, an impostor, or their captor impersonating the voice to lure them out of hiding. They didn't even know for sure if the real Mr. Kippling had been killed.

"Your mu–the evil bint might be waiting either way." No matter how hard he tried to make the words come out, Harry couldn't let the truth spill out. The other boy had his head down. There was an intolerable sort of shame that he knew his friend was feeling at the moment.

Ladean Kippling had been the one to take them.

"She used to dress like that when I was very little and take me here, promised me that my father would get hurt if I told. She'd make me sit out in the dark, and the boy, he'd whisper things I couldn't understand, hisses." He looked up with a haunted gaze. "I know he's been affecting you, that boy…." Ervy said softly, in a defeated whisper. "I'm so sorry I kept it from you; I just… I didn't want you to hate me. "

"I already knew, Ervy," Harry confessed. The woman was not right in her head, and Harry had heard when she'd curse Ervy under her breath, calling him all sorts of ugly names, cursing the very day he was born. Ervin Kippling was just as much a prisoner as he was.

"Ervin!" the voice was closer now, getting nearer as it shouted the name through the roar of flames and the crumbling rock reinforcing the house's foundations.

"Let's go," Harry rushed his friend, grabbing his arm to assist him in standing. He lost his grip as a painful jab in his lightning-bolt scar seemed to split his forehead open, falling to his knees and scathing them as he did so. With horror, he felt a leather chord tighten around his neck, looking up in time to watch as Ervy stepped away from him, observing his hands as inky black pools spread under the skin. The lighting scar cutting across his forehead returned to unfeeling as the cool metal touched his chest. However, the damage from the outburst he had had was irreparable; the entire building was going to fall right on top of them.

"No!" he yelled before an arm fastened around his neck from behind and a wand tip poked at his jugular.

"Caught you," Ladean Kippling hissed. "Now who's the real one?" She wasn't speaking in a normal language. Before he could respond, he heard Ervy begin to hiss the only words Harry had repeated over and over again as they took him away.

"Let him go!" Ervy shouted. It was chopped and imperfect, but it was coherent and Harry was immediately tossed away, his head hitting the stone floor as he impacted it.

"Stop it!" he screamed at Ervy, who was now backing away from the looming figure of his mother, his shaking hands clamped at his side as if he was understanding Ladean Kippling's strange words.

The slate grey eyes met his, and Harry shook his head, horrified when Ervy took a rock within his hand and threw it as his cloaked attacker. It hit her on the shoulder and sent her wand to the floor. Ervy dove for it and aimed it at his own mother, and Harry was frozen in shock when Mr. Kippling appeared just past the shadow of darkness, a dark look encompassing his face as he released a green flash of light from the end of his own wand that struck his wife in the chest.

Harry would never forget the look of grief on Mr. Kipplings face as he fell over her form, her cloak falling to reveal spilling curls. An orb of light rose from her chest and a dark shadow formed right above it. The light, in a mad surge, grew bigger until an ear-splitting scream disrupted every sound emanating from the crumbling dungeon. They watched as the mirror shattered and exploded, shooting the fragments through the air.

All returned to destruction, the flames surrounding them flared with renewed vigor as wooden rafters began to crash down from above.

Ervy, still looking like a replica of him, grabbed at his father's arms and propelled him upwards. Harry ran towards them, still unable to hear anything but the falling rocks impacting each other with brute force. The pillar to their right made a resounding crash as it toppled down, its thick girth fully trapping his friend underneath it.

In a horrified sequence, Mr. Kippling sighted Harry as he ran towards his own clone and came to the realization that one of the pair had to be his own son. He met Harry half way and gave him a long look of pure despair when one glance at him confirmed his worse fears.

"I'll help you," Harry assured him, not looking back up. They heard Ervy speak as they tried to move the obstruction, trying anything and everything to get back to him, determined not to leave without him. The flames were dancing closer and closer and he had become exhausted throughout his ordeal without the pendant, he simply couldn't conjure up even a cinch of his abilities. Harry was powerless.

"I'm not afraid," Ervy whispered in a cracked voice, his breathing shallow and unsteady as he grasped Harry's hand.

With new determination, Harry lifted himself off the floor and dodged rocks in order to retrieve Mr. Kippling's wand. Rolling away in a maneuver Bruce had taught him that summer; Harry barely made it out of the way as a portion of the ceiling above him fell.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ the man shouted when Harry had made it back. The stone levitated briefly before falling off to the side and sending flaming ashes through the air.

Weak, gurgling noises were coming from Ervy's mouth as Mr. Kippling gathered him in his arms. Unfortunately, as he stepped back to give them space, the action caused him to step right into the path of a tumbling portion of wall. The sharp stab of pain that came with the snap of his leg was intolerable.

Mr. Kippling, Ervy in his arms, hovered over him. Harry gazed up at him as the man placed a blue marble in his hand.

"Thank you, Harry Potter," Mr. Kippling said, the entirety of his expression contrite.

Out of breath, eyes drifting shut from the sheer amount of exhaustion that he had never before felt, he wrapped his hand around the marble before drifting off into unconsciousness.

* * *

"The artifact is secure, I was informed," Dumbledore told them, watching through the window pane as Harry peered down at his hands listlessly. "Liam Lorcan's connection to Harry has been completely severed, though the original, far more effective protection continues to exist." His fingertips briefly fluttered over the pane. "By managing to overt all the side effects towards himself, he is paying the price for the connection's discretion. The poor man will suffer for some time." Dumbledore tore his azure eyes away. "Mr. Pettigrew's confession seems to have expedited your releases from Ministry holding cells…I did not see a time in which Mr. Potter's fragile emotional stability seemed able enough to handle the mere mention of your names during your shared absence. We have little choice at this point, however. St. Mungo's can only keep the media at bay for so long. It becomes somewhat of a spectacle when an obituary must be retracted."

Remus nodded solemnly, unable to sustain eye contact with the older wizard.

Sirius cursed under his breath, clasping a hand over his mouth as he fisted his palm into the opposite wall and bowed his head. The stifling pressure of undeniable failure filled the gaping wounds in their chests.

Three days, six hours, twenty minutes, and forty-three seconds… They had waited that long in that cell, speculating over Harry's state, listening to the cruel whispers of death to their charge. They had suffocated in their own silence as they imagined the worse.

"There is no one left, at this point, who can help him survive his ordeal," Dumbledore said ruefully. The headmaster was apparently the only one that knew who had found Harry in a cottage near Hogsmeade, where Honeydukes was the only shop that sold the red sweets _Baron Drops_, which had been found at the shack where Ervin Kippling had taken Harry. Based on that clue, an anonymous rescuer had found the boy in the beginning stages of severe shock and pneumonia inside a seemingly abandoned cottage by way of a simple locating charm.

"Padfoot," Remus called to his distressed friend, "We must go. Right now," he said.

Sirius swallowed deeply. "Nearly two months in that hell." The crumbled fist at his side shook. "Two damn months of-…"

"I hate myself no less than you do, Sirius," Remus replied softly, digging his nails into his pockets, wondering over his own ability to appear so emotionless when the pain was so crippling inside.

"Harry," Sirius tried softly once they we inside the sterilized room, where the lights had been dimmed due to the sensitivity of his eyesight, "we thought you might like some breakfast." The boy's emerald eyes seemed permanently affixed on the woven cotton of his crisp sheets.

"There's grits and biscuits, some milk," Remus added, as if they both weren't restraining themselves from clutching onto their charge and making sure it was all real. The tray was carefully set on a small wooden plane extending across Harry's lap.

"I would have been here earlier, kiddo, but we kind of landed in prison for a while."

"That's right," Remus affirmed. "We never stopped looking for you."

Harry's line of vision rose towards his food at least. For a second, they were relieved that he was giving them a response, no matter how minimal, before having it crushed by the fact that the contents of the tray went aflame.

"If you weren't hungry, Harry, we could have just taken it out of your hands, you know," Sirius was trying so hard to insert some humor behind it.

Remus extinguished the flaming food. "The culinary minded have a name for that technique, too. Though I can't think of it at the moment," Remus added, watching the cold detachment Harry was able to procure in defense. Shoved aside, the metal tray toppled to the ground.

"Harry," Sirius pleaded sadly, unfazed by the charred grits now decorating his trousers. When Remus made to move closer, the sleeve of his jumper was set on fire as well. They died out before the werewolf could put them out himself.

"You have to mean it, Harry," Remus whispered, feeling his eyes water, "you have to truly want to cause me harm for it to hurt me."

A whine of misery escaped Harry's mouth and his striking emerald eyes flooded with tears. His lips compressed tightly. He whimpered through his throat, unable to fully silence the sounds, his limbs trembling.

"If you're not comfortable being around us, we could give you some more time. I understand that we were used to hurt you, Harry…" Sirius drifted off in a shaky voice Remus had never heard before, shutting his eyes.

"So, you just tell us if it's too much, okay?" Remus finished for him, nearly taking his charge's hand in his before thinking better of it.

"Please let us hear you speak, if nothing else…" Sirius breathed. "The _Daily Prophet_, they pronounced you dead. Worse than Azkaban, that. I can't communicate what I felt then…I don't think I could live with losing you." They waited for any cues, any indication that they weren't just causing the child more pain by showing their faces. When they spotted nothing, Remus moved away. "Okay…we'll be just outside that door to make certain you're safe." Sirius made to follow his retreat.

"Help," Harry said so softly they could just vaguely catch it. Both men released an intelligible sound of relief. Sobs were wracking the child's gaunt frame. "Help me," he whimpered. "It hurts," he gasped for air as the tears flowed down his flushed cheeks, "It hurts so badly." For the first time, he met their eyes, complete torture written within the irises. "I destroy everything," he sobbed.

"Don't you ever think that," Remus got in through the piercing pain in his chest. Sirius was no longer capable of maintaining his distance, hugging his godson tightly to his chest, seeking to shield him as Remus comforted him by drawing circles over the starred pajama top.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through losing someone else in your life, Harry" Sirius told him. "Rather sad sort, aren't we? But if you give us another chance we'll try harder not to be half as daft as we've been so far."

"I never, not once, believed they were you guys," Harry sniffled. "I just…I didn't understand how you could stand someone like me. I didn't deserve it–I was trouble from the start."

"On the contrary, Harry. You have no idea how special you are," Remus said softly. "The funny aspect of all this is that we spend most of our days wondering what we did to deserve _you_." Remus sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Harry to him.

"Being around you alone made us a better lot. No one tames old Padfoot like you, I'll have you know." Sirius grinned and the corner of Harry's mouth went up. "We failed you, Harry, and I know you're strong and brave, but we hope for a chance to redeem ourselves so that you don't ever have to stand alone."

"Can you accept that, Harry?" Remus asked him. "Will you let us help you when you're scared and confused so that this never happens again?"

Harry nodded, tearing his eyes away from them.

"Tell us, Harry. I know it hurts, but it'll only be worse if you don't share it. Trust me in that." Sirius told him softly, running his hands through the tangled mop of his godson's hair.

"I promised I'd take care of him, of Ervy," the boy admitted softly. "I need…I need some help to bury--" Unable to cope with finishing the sentence, Harry tightly wound his hands around his late father's Quidditch glove, like a child clutching a prized teddy bear for comfort. Lost eyes swiveled across his lap, sickly wide with memory, with the trace of their neglect.

This was monumental for Harry, who rarely, if ever, asked for assistance of any sort. Robert Kippling had ingested enough ricin to murder a herd of Thestrals when they were unable to resuscitate his son. The worst part had been the headmaster's depiction of Harry leaving his rooms to find those bodies, all because they had refused to tell him what had happened. Apparently, Harry had sworn to never forgive the headmaster for not doing anything, for not telling him. Albus Dumbledore had alluded to false hope, and the bitter reality he'd been faced with so abruptly had literally crushed Harry to the point that he had not reacted to a single stimuli in his environment for days. It was quite a feat, what they had accomplished, Remus knew.

"We'll help you make all the arrangements," Sirius promised instantly.

**A/N: I sincerely hope that my lack of updates hasn't put many off this story. And I would be so grateful for any reviews or thoughts on how the characters were portrayed. I always worry that the way I'm envisioning it isn't translating onto the page correctly. Let me know if you enjoyed it. Can anyone say "All aboard the Hogwarts Express!" for the next chapter?**


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